?iit' 


f/'./'r':' ■ 


^s- 

^ 

si 

"^* 

£ 

<^ 

3 

M 

1-9 

M 

^ 

M 

-^ 

CO    .  _i 

O 

Q    h  -— 

^ 

^ 

o 

H 

•          WO    —    f^ 

^ 

^ 

;25 

• 

^H — 

• 

o 

:s 

5^- 

U* 

e 

^ 

.£^ 

"»^ 

M 

J\ 


Digitized  by  tlie  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2010  witli  funding  from 

Princeton  Tlieological  Seminary  Library 


littp://www.archive.org/details/josepliormodelyouOOspra 


JOSEPH: 


OR,    THE  FFR        R         mS. 


II  Y 


iiiu 


BY 
1^ 


WILLIAM    B.    SPRAGUE,    D.D. 


NEW-YORK: 
ANSON    D.    F.    RANDOLPH,    683    BROADWAY. 

1860. 


PREFACE. 


This  book,  though  it  has  passed   through  several 
editions,  has  been  out  of  print  for  some  years  past, 
and  is  now  reproduced  under  a  different  title,  and  in  a 
cheaper  form,  in  the  hope  that  it  may  be  found  suit- ' 
able  especially  for  Sabbath-school  libraries. 


CONTENTS 


Page. 
Outline  op  the  history  of  Joseph, 7 


PART  I. 

SOURCES  OF  DANGER  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

LETTER  1. 
Danger  from  excessive  parentat,  mnuLOENCE,      .    .    2<J 

LETTER  ir. 
Danger  from  injurious  treatment,' 3S 

LETTER  in. 
Danger  from  living  away  from  home, 47 


IV  CONTENTS, 

LETTER  IV. 

Page, 
Danger  from  living  in  a  corrupt  state  of  sociei  y,  .    58 

LETTER  V. 

Danger  from  being  suddenly  cast  into  adversity,  .    71 

LETTER  VI. 
Danger  from  being  entrusted  with  the  interests 
of  others 80 

LETTER  VII. 
Danger    from    coming    into    possession   op  great 
wealth, 90 


PART  II. 

CHARACTER     TO    W'UICH     YOUNG     MEN    SHOULD 
ASriRE. 

LETTER  VIII. 
Integrity, lOl 

LETTER  IX. 
Diligence, 117 

LETTER  X. 
Economy, 129 


CONTENTS.  V 

LETTER  XI. 

Page. 
Dignity, 137 

LETTER  XII. 
Sympathy, 154 

LETTER  XIII. 

FORGIVENKSS  OF  INJURIES. 1C6 

LETTER  XIV. 
Filial  REGAno ISl 

LETTER  XV. 
Dkpendance  on  God, 194 


PART  III. 

REWARDS    THAT    CROWN    A    VIRTUOUS    COURSE. 

LETTER  XVI. 
Virtue  crowned  with  safety, 207 

LETTER  XVII.      ■ 
Virtue  crowned  with  peace, 217 

LETTER  XVIII. 
Virtue  crowned  with  riches, 227 


n  CONTENTS. 

LETTER  XIX. 

Page 
Virtue  crowned  with  honour, 240 

LETTER  XX. 
Virtue  crowned  with  usefulness 252 

LETTER  XXI. 

Virtue  CROWNED  WITH  heaven, 263 


OUTLINE 


HISTORY  or  JOSEPH. 


The  first  scene  in  the  history  of  Joseph,  as  it  is 
preserved  in  the  inspired  record,  occurred  when  he 
was  about  seventeen  years  of. age,  while  he  yet 
dwelt  with  Jacob  his  father  in  the  land  of  Canaan, 
and  was  occupied  with  his  brethren  in  the  capacity 
of  a  shepherd.  As  he  seems  to  have  been  a  boy 
of  uncommon  promise,  and  was  the  child  of  his 
father's  old  age,  and  withal  had  lost  a  mother 
whose  memory  was  most  dear  to  the  heart  of  his 
surviving  parent,  it  is  not  strange  that  Jacob  should 
have  regarded  him  with  peculiar  affection ;  nor, 
considering  the  Aveakness  of  human  nature,  was 
it  strange  that  his  affection  should  have  betrayed 
him  into  an  unreasonable  and  dangerous  partiality. 


8  OUTLINE    OF   THE 

He  manifested  his  preference  for  him  by  dressing 
him  up  in  a  showy  and  perhaps  expensive  coat  — 
a  measure  certainly  which  was  but  too  well  fitted 
to  call  forth  the  envy  of  his  brethren. 

About  this  time  Joseph  had  two  singular  dreams, 
representing  most  strikingly  his  own  future  ascen- 
dancy over  his  brethren ;  and  these  dreams,  no 
doubt  in  consequence  of  divine  intimation,  he 
communicated  to  them ;  and,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  they  heard  him  with  any  thing  else  than 
pleasure  or  patience.  Having  gone  from  home  to 
feed  their  father's  flock,  Jacob  proposed  to  Joseph 
that  he  should  go  and  make  them  a  visit,  and  in 
due  time  return  arid  report  to  him  concerning  ib<^.ir 
prosperity.  Joseph,  in  the  spirit  of  prompt  obe- 
dience to  his  father,  and  with  no  other  feeling  than 
that  of  good  will  toward  his  brethren,  fell  in  at 
once  with  the  suggestion  ;  and  he  set  out  imme- 
diately with  a  view  to  find  them ;  and  though  he 
had  some  little  difficulty  in  ascertaining  where 
they  were,  in  consequence  of  their  having  changed 
their  place  of  sojourn,  yet  he  finally  overtook 
them  at  Dothan.  They  saw  and  recognized  him 
while  he  was  yet  at  a  distance ;  and  one  woulc 
have  supposed  that  the  sight  of  a  young  brother 


HISTORY    OF   JOSEPH. 


coming  directly  from  their  aged  father,  to  inquire 
concerning  their  health  and  prosperity,  would 
have  been  most  grateful  to  them ;  and  that  they 
would  have  run  to  meet  him  and  welcome  him  by 
their  embraces.  But  so  far  from  that,  the  sight  of 
him  roused  up  in  their  bosoms  a  spirit  of  malignity 
and  rancour:  the  fine  coat  and  the  offensive 
dreams  gave  them  more  trouble  than  ever :  since 
they  had  got  him  into  their  power,  they  resolved 
to  take  vengeance  on  him  in  some  way ;  and  their 
first  determination  was  to  despatch  him  on  the 
spot.  In  consequence,  however,  of  the  proposal 
of  Reuben,  whose  intention  seems  to  have  been  to 
save  Joseph's  life,  and  ultimately  cause  him  to  be 
restored  to  his  father,  they  determined  to  cast  him 
into  a  pit  in  the  wilderness,  and  forthwith  ful- 
filled their  purpose ;  and  then,  in  consequence  of 
the  intercessions  of  Judah,  who  seems  to  have 
revolted  at  the  idea  of  leaving  him  to  perish,  they 
resolved  to  sell  him,  and  actually  did  sell  him,  as 
a  slave,  to  a  company  of  Midianitish  merchants 
who  happened  to  be  passing  that  way. 

The  question  now  arose  among  these  wicked 
brethren,  in  what  manner  they  should  conceal 
their  guilt  from  their  father ;  and  the    conclusion 


10  OUTLINE    OF    THE 

was  that  they  should  take  Joseph's  coat,  of  which 
they  had  robbed  him,  and  dip  it  in  the  blood  of  a 
kid,  and  pass  it  off  upon  Jacob  as  evidence  that 
his  son  had  been  killed  by  some  wild  beast.  This 
cruel  purpose  they  put  into  execution.  And  it 
had  the  desired  effect;  for  the  moment  Jacob  saw 
it,  he  recognized  it  as  his  son's  coat,  and  exclaimed 
with  anguish  that  an  evil  beast  had  devoured  him, 
and  no  doubt  he  had  been  torn  in  pieces.  Imme- 
diately he  went  into  mourning  for  his  son,  and 
refused  all  the  consolation  which  was  proffered 
him,  exclaiming  in  the  bitterness  of  his  soul,  and 
in  the  sublimity  of  parental  tenderness,  "I  will  go 
down  into  the  grave  unto  my  son  mourning." 

Meanwhile,  the  Midianiles  who  had  bought 
Joseph,  sold  him  into  Egypt,  to  Potiphar,  the 
captain  of  the  king's  guard.  And  Joseph,  by  his 
exemplary  fidelity,  so  commended  himself  to  his 
new  master,  that  he  was  presently  advanced  to  a 
station  of  influence  and  authority — was  made 
overseer  of  his  house,  and  was  entrusted  with  the 
management  of  all  his  concerns.  In  this  new 
station  Joseph  showed  himself  at  once  entirely  at 
home;  and  all  things  went  prosperously  under  his 
manao-ement;  and  such  unlimited  confidence  did 


HISTOU.Y    OF   JOSEPH.  1 1 

his  master  place  in  him,  that  he  scarcely  troubled 
himself  even  to  inquire  about  his  concerns. 

But  now  comes  a  critical  point  in  the  history. 
While  Joseph  was  acquitting  himself  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  official  duties  to  the  entire  satisfaction 
of  all  concerned,  Potiphar's  wife  formed  a  base 
plot  for  his  ruin  :  which,  though  it  resulted  in  a 
glorious  triumph  of  his  innocence,  Avas  the  means 
not  only  of  his  being  thrown  out  of  his  station, 
but  of  his  being  thrown  into  a  prison.  But  here 
too  Joseph  immediately  became  a  favourite.  He 
seems  to  have  been  destined  to  be  a  man  of 
authority,  wherever  Providence  might  place  him  ; 
for  he  became  to  the  keeper  of  the  prison  what 
he  had  previously  been  to  Potiphar  —  a  sort  of 
general  agent  in  the  prison — an  overseer  of  all 
its  inmates. 

About  this  time,  two  of  the  king's  officers — 
his  chief  butler  and  chief  baker,  committed  some 
ofTence  by  which  they  incurred  his  displeasure; 
and  he  issued  a  mandate  for  their  being  cast  into 
prison  ;  and  the  captain  of  the  guard  put  thorn 
specially  into  Joseph's  custody.  These  two  men 
had  each  a  troublesome  dream,  which  Joseph 
took  it  upon   himself  to  interpret :  the  intcrpreta 


12  OUTLINE    OF    THE 

fion  of  the  butler's  dream  was,  that  he  should  be 
almost  immediately  restored  to  the  king's  favour 
and  the  king's  service ;  but  that  of  the  baker's 
was,  that  within  about  the  same  period,  he  should 
fall  a  victim  to  the  king's  resentment.  And  in 
each  case  the  interpretation  turned  out  to  be  true 
to  the  letter ;  the  butler  was  restored  to  do  the 
honours  of  the  king's  table;  the  baker  was  hung 
to  grace  the  festivities  of  the  king's  birthday. 
Joseph,  however,  still  remained  in  prison.  He 
had  indeed  requested  the  butler,  when  he  relieved 
his  anxiety  by  interpreting  his  dream,  to  intercede 
with  the  king  in  his  behalf.  Avhen  he  should  be 
restored  to  favour :  but  he  turned  out  to  be  a  poor 
ungrateful  creature,  who  thought  nothing  of  Joseph 
afterwards,  and  probably  cared  not  who  might  be 
in  bondage,  provided  only  he  could  himself  have 
his  liberty. 

Not  long  after  this,  the  king  himself  had  two 
strange  dreams,  whijh  he  was  as  unable  to  inter- 
pret as  his  officers  had  been  to  interpret  theirs ; 
and  now  it  occurs  to  the  butler  that  he  had  once 
been  placed  in  a  similar  predicament ;  and  he 
remembers  how  he  was  relieved  from  his  anxiety: 
and  now,  for  the  first  time,  and  not  for  Joseph's 


HISTORY    OF   JOSEPH.  13 

sake,  but  for  the  king's  sake,  he  mentions 
Joseph's  name  to  Pharaoh ;  or  rather  speaks  of 
him  as  a  young  Hebrew,  who  had  given  a  true 
interpretation  of  two  dreams  at  least,  and  for 
aught  he  knew,  might  do  the  same  of  two  more; 
and  this  intimation  was  sufficient  to  induce  the 
king  to  send  for  him.  Joseph,  accordingly,  as 
soon  as  he  could  change  his  raiment,  came  forth 
from  his  dungeon,  and  stood  in  the  royal  pre- 
sence ;  and  after  an  introduction  Avhich  did  great 
credit  to  Joseph's  piety,  the  king  related  to  him 
his  two  dreams ;  at  the  same  time  declaring  that 
none  of  his  magicians  were  able  to  interpret  them. 
But  Joseph  immediately  gave  an  interpretation: 
he  assured  the  king  that  they  pointed  to  seven 
years  of  plenty,  which  were  to  be  succeeded  by 
seven  years  of  famine  ;  and  advised  him  to  make 
provision,  during  the  season  of  abundance,  for  the 
time  of  need.  Pharaoh  putting  full  confidence 
in  Joseph's  interpretation,  and  perceiving  the 
uncommon  wisdom  which  he  evinced,  forthwith 
appointed  him  ruler  over  all  the  land  of  Egypt, 
and  caused  him  to  move  in  the  splendour  becoming- 
the  highest  official  distinction. 

And  now  Pharaoh's  dream  be^an  to  be  fulfilled 


.  4  OUTLINE    OF    THE 

in  accordance  with  Joseph's  interpretation.  For 
the  first  seven  j'ears,  the  fields  yielded  an  unpre- 
cedented abundance ;  and  Joseph  busied  himself 
in  laying-  up  corn  for  the  publick  benefit ;  and  the 
amount  which  he  accumulated  is  said  to  have 
been  "as  the  sand  of  the  sea."  But  then  came 
the  seven  years  of  famine ;  and  the  people  every 
where  were  crying  out  for  bread ;  and  Joseph 
threw  open  his  store  houses,  and  dealt  out  to  them 
according  to  their  needs. 

But  it  was  not  in  Egypt  only,  but  in  the  sur- 
rounding countries,  that  the  famine  prevailed; 
and  Jacob  and  his  family  were  likely  to  suffer 
in  common  with  the  rest  of  their  countrymen. 
Hence  Jacob,  having  heard  that  there  was  corn 
in  Egypt,  proposed  to  his  sons  to  go  down  thither 
and  procure  a  suppl}'' ;  and  forthwith  they  all  set 
off,  with  the  exception  of  Benjamin,  the  youngest 
child  and  the  darling  of  his  father,  whom  he  was 
unwilling  to  trust  upon  such  an  expedition  ;  and 
the  reason  that  he  gave  for  his  unwillingness — 
"  lest  mischief  might  befal  him  in  the  way,"  — 
would  seem  to  convey  a  touching  allusion  to  the 
fate  of  his  beloved  Joseph.  Having  arrived  in 
Egypt,    they  went    first    to    present  themselves 


HISTORY    OF    JOSEPH.  15 

before  the  governour ;  and  on  approaching  him, 
"  they  bowed  themselves  with  their  faces  to  the 
earth ;"  and  then,  though  they  suspected  it  not 
—  then  began  to  be  fulfilled  the  famous  dream, 
for  which  they  had  hated  their  brother,  and 
finally  sold  him  into  bondage.  Joseph  the 
governour  was  so  unlike  Joseph  the  slave  ; 
Joseph  in  a  palace  was  so  different  from  Joseph 
in  a  pit,  that  it  was  not  strange,  especially  as 
they  had  been  separated  from  him  for  years,  that 
they  did  not  recognize  him ;  though,  as  the 
change  in  thevi  was  much  less,  he  immediately 
knew  them  to  be  his  brethren; — yes,  the  very 
brethren  who  had  deliberately  cast  him  into  a  pit 
to  die,  and  had  taken  him  out  of  it  only  to  be 
sokl  into  perpetual  servitude.  Joseph's  heart 
must  have  been  full  at  the  discovery;  but  still 
he  commanded  himself,  and  stood  up  before  them 
with  perfect  dignity.  With  a  view  to  try  them 
and  prove  them,  he  charged  them  first  with  being 
spies,  who  had  come  to  make  their  observations 
upon  the  nakedness  of  the  land ;  and  he  assumed 
towards  them  a  stern  and  forbidding  manner. 
But  they  replied  to  him  with  great  simplicity  — 
"  Thy  servants  are  twelve  brethren,  the  sons  of 


16  OUTLINK    OF    THE 

one  man  in  the  land  of  Canaan,  and  behold  the 
youngest  is  this  day  with  our  father,  and  one  is  not." 
"  Well  then,"  says  Joseph,  '•  thus  shall  your  sin- 
cerity be  tested  —  let  one  of  your  number  go  and 
bring  that  youngest  brother  down  hither,  while  the 
rest  of  you  remain  in  prison  ;  and  the  failure  to 
bring  him  shall  be  the  proof  that  you  are  spies." 
Then  Joseph  put  them  all  into  prison  together,  and 
they  remained  there  three  days;  and  at  the  end 
of  that  time,  he  so  far  varied  his  purpose,  as  to 
require  one  of  them  to  be  bound  in  prison  as  a 
hostage,  and  to  permit  the  rest  to  go  and  carry 
corn  to  their  families ;  charging  them  again  to 
bring  their  youngest  brother  back  as  a  proof  that 
they  were  not  spies.  And  now  conscience  began 
to  bring  up  before  them  the  image  of  their  poor 
brother  whom  they  had  sold  as  a  slave  ;  and  they 
had  a  most  sorrowful  conference  with  each  other 
on  the  subject,  directly  in  the  presence  of  Joseph, 
who,  they  took  for  granted,  did  not  understand 
them,  while  yet  he  really  did  understand  every 
word  ;  and  he  was  even  obliged  to  turn  away  from 
them  to  conceal  his  tears.  But  immediately  he 
ofot  command  of  himself  ag-am,  and  resumed  his 


HISTORY    OF   JOSEPH.  17 

conversation    with    them,   and    took    from    them 
Simeon,  and  bound  him  before  their  eyes. 

Previous  to  their  setting  off  on  their  journey 
home,  Joseph  gave  directions  not  only  that  each 
man's  sack  should  be  filled  with  corn,  but  thai 
each  man's  money  should  be  put  into  his  sack  ; 
and  that  provision  should  be  furnished  them  ade 
quate  to  their  journey.  After  having  proceeded  a 
shoig^  distance,  one  of  them  having  occasion  to 
open  his  sack,  discovered  that  his  money  had  been 
restored  :  and  this  became  a  new  source  of  anxiety 
to  them  ;  and  while  they  were  unable  to  conjecture 
the  true  explanation  of  it,  their  consciences  were 
ready  to  construe  it  into  an  indication  of  evil.  In 
this  state  of  depression  they  reached  home ;  and 
a  most  sorrowful  story  they  had  to  tell  to  their 
aged  father — the  gloomiest  part  of  which  was, 
that  they  had  entered  into  a  covenant  with  the 
governour  of  Egypt,  which  required  that  his  be- 
loved Benjamin  should  be  taken  from  him.  Jacob's 
feelings  instantly  rose  against  this  suggestion,  and 
he  gave  vent  to  them  in  that  memorable  exclama- 
tion— "Me  ye  have  bereaved  of  my  children: 
Joseph  is  not,  and  Simeon  is  not,  and  ye  will  take 
Benjamin  away.  All  these  things  are  again^-t  me!" 
2 


18  OUTLINE    OF    THE 

But  though  Jacob,  at  first,  utterly  refused  to  yield 
to  tlie  importunity  of  his  sons  to  let  Benjamin  go, 
yet,  when  the  corn  which  they  had  brought  up 
from  Egypt  was  exhausted,  and  the  famine  waxed 
more  and  more  severe,  he  finally  co.nsented,  though 
with  great  reluctance,  to  withdraw  his  objections; 
and  having  charged  them  to  take  valuable  presents 
to  the  governour,  with  a  view  to  propitiate  him,  he 
commended  them  all  to  the  protection  and  mercy 
of  God  ;  at  the  same  time  expressing  his  submission 
to  the  divine  will  in  this  remarkable  language  — 
"  If  I  am  bereaved  of  my  children,  I  am  bereaved." 

The  brethren,  with  Benjamin  of  their  number, 
now  went  down  into  Egypt ;  and  when,  on  their 
arrival,  Joseph  saw  that  Benjamin  was  with  them, 
he  gave  orders  to  the  ruler  of  his  house  to  bring 
them  all  home  to  dinner.  But,  instead  of  consid- 
ering this  as  a  favour  and  an  honour,  they  saw 
in  it  the  signs  of  alarming  evil ;  they  remembered 
the  mysterious  affair  of  the  money  being  found  in 
their  sacks;  and  they  suspected  that  the  invitation 
to  dinner  would  turn  out  to  be  a  summons  to  a 
state  of  bondage.  As  they  met  the  steward  on 
their  approach  to  the  house,  they  began  immedi- 
ately to  explain  their  own  conduct,  and   assured 


HISTORY    OF   JOSEPH.  19 

him  that  the  affair  of  the  money  was  all  a  mystery 
to  them,  and  that  they  had  not  only  brought  it  all 
back,  but  had  brought  other  money,  with  a  view 
to  make  still  further  purcliases ;  upon  which  the 
steward  instantly  put  to  flight  all  their  appre- 
hensions, and  brought  out  Simeon,  with  whom 
no  doubt  they  must  have  had  a  most  agreeable 
meeting. 

At  length  Joseph  returned  ;  and  they  met  him 
with  the  present,  and  bowed  in  his  presence  to  do 
him  honour:  and  he  inquired  concerning  the  health 
of  their  father,  and  obtained  from  them  the  infor- 
mation he  wished.  But  when  he  saw  his  brother 
Benjamin — his  own  mother's  son,  it  was  more 
than  he  could  bear  ;  his  fraternal  sensibilities,  for 
the  time,  got  the  better  of  him  ;  and  he  retired 
into  his  chamber  and  remained  there,  till  the  first 
gush  of  feeling  was  over.  Then  he  came  out  of 
his  chamber  and  ordered  dinner  to  be  served  ;  and, 
greatly  to  the  astonishment  of  his  guests,  he 
arranged  them  at  the  table  according  to  their 
respective  ages,  and  gave  to  Benjamin  a  portion 
larger  by  five  times  than  to  any  of  the  rest.  He 
himself  sat  down  to  a  different  table,  as  the  Egyp- 
Lians  were  not  permitted  to  eat  with  the  Hebrews  ; 


20  OUTLINE    OF    THE 

but  the  history  informs  us  that  "  they  drank  and 
were  merry  together." 

But  Joseph  had  not  yet  sufficiently  proved  his 
brethren.  He  therefore  commanded  his  steward, 
as  they  were  about  to  depart,  to  fill  the  men's 
sacks  with  food,  and  to  put  every  man's  money 
into  the  mouth  of  his  sack,  and  to  put  his  own 
Sliver  cup  into  the  sack  of  the  youngest;  and  the 
command  was  faithfully  obeyed.  Soon  after  they 
had  taken  their  departure,  the  steward,  by  Joseph's 
du'ection,  proceeded  in  great  haste  after  them,  and 
overtook  them,  and  charged  them  with  having  in 
their  possession  the  cup  from  which  the  governour 
drank,  and  by  means  of  which  he  conducted  his 
divinations.  Astonished  at  the  charge,  and  con- 
scious of  their  own  innocence  in  the  matter,  they 
challenged  an  examination  of  their  sacks,  declaring, 
at  the  same  time,  that  if  it  were  found  upon  any 
one  of  them,  he  should  die,  and  the  rest  should  go 
into  bondage.  To  their  utter  consternation,  the 
cup  was  found  in  Benjamin's  sack;  and  as  soon 
as  the  discovery  was  made,  they  rent  then-  clothes, 
and  returned  with  heavy  hearts  to  the  city.  And 
then  they  prostrated  themselves  before  Joseph ; 
and  Judah,   who   spake   in   behalf  of  the  wh  !e 


HISTORY    OF    JOSEPH.  21 

company,  acknowledged  that  God  had  found  out 
their  iniquity,  and  that  they  were  all  fairly  com- 
mitted  to  a  state  of  bondage.     But  Joseph  said 
"  God  forbid   that  I  should  do  so :  but  the  man 
in  whose  hand  the  cup  is  found,  he  shall  be  my 
servant ;  and  as  for  you,  get  you  up  in  peace  unto 
your  father."     Then  Judah  expostulated  with  the 
governour,   and  went  over  whh   the  story  of  his 
father's  anxieties  and  sorrows— how  reluctant  his 
father  had  been  to  part  with  Benjamin,  and  how 
he   had   pledged    himself  that   his   darling  child 
should  return  to  him   in   safety;  and   finally,  he 
asked  it  as  a  privilege  that  he  might  remain   in 
bondage  in  place  of  his  younger  brother,  lest  his 
aged  father  should  go  down  to  the  grave  under 
the  Aveight  of  his  afflictions. 

By  this  time  Joseph  had  sufficiently  tested  their 
state  of  feeling;  and  more  than  that— he  had 
become  so  much  dissolved  by  Judah's  speech,  that 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  suppress  his  emotions: 
and  now  he  clears  the  room  of  all  but  his  brethren, 
with  a  view  to  reveal  to  them  a  most  astounding 
secret.  Here  is  the  governour  of  Egypt,  standing 
before  these  apparently  unfortunate  men,  with 
something  upon  his  heart  that  makes  him  weep. 


22  OUTLINE    OF    THE 

What  he  is  about  to  say,  they  cannot  even  con- 
jecture; but  at  length  it  comes  out  amidst  tears 
and  sobs — '^ I  ain  Joseph  ;"  and  the  very  first 
question  he  asked,  was  one  that  showed  that  the 
son  had  not  been  lost  in  the  governour — "Doth 
my  father  yet  live  ?  "  No  wonder  that  the  reve- 
lation overpowered  his  brethren,  and  that  their 
lips  were  sealed,  so  that  they  could  not  answer 
him.  But  Joseph  endeavoured  instantly  to  quiet 
their  apprehensions,  by  assuring  them  that  he  was 
their  brother  still,  and  by  referring  to  the  gracious 
ends  which  Providence  had  accomplished  through 
their  instrumentality;  and  then  he  directed  them 
lo  go  up  to  Canaan  and  bring  down  their  father, 
and  their  families,  and  all  that  they  had,  for  a 
residence  in  Egypt ;  that  he  might  have  the  privi- 
lege of  ministering  to  their  wants  and  nourishing 
them  upon  the  royal  bounty.  Then  he  fell  upon 
his  brother  Benjamin's  neck  and  wept;  and 
Benjamin  wept  upon  his  neck  ;  and  he  embraced 
them  all  in  turn,  and  wept  upon  them  ;  and  after 
these  ample  pledges  of  his  affection,  they  gather- 
ed confidence  to  converse  with  him.  The  news 
was  immediately  communicated  to  Pharaoh,  and 
he  cordially  seconded  Joseph's  wishes;  and  tha 


HISTORY    OF   JOSErH.  23 

brethren  having-  received  valuable  presents  from 
Joseph,  were  forthwith  despatched  to  Canaan,  to 
bring  down  their  father  and  their  respective  fami- 
lies to  reside  in  the  land  of  Eg-ypt.  It  is  worthy 
of  remark  that,  before  thej?-  set  out  on  their 
journey,  Joseph  charged  them  that  they  should 
not  fall  out  by  the  way — a  caution  which  was 
very  naturally  suggested  by  the  experience  he  had 
formerly  had  of  their  tempers,  and  which  was  a 
.  delicate  way  of  reminding  them  of  the  past,  and 
suggesting  matter  for  reflection  and  ground  for 
repentance. 

Agreeably  to  Joseph's  directions,  his  brethren 
proceeded  immediately  to  Canaan  ;  and  it  is 
scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  they  approached 
their  father  with  far  better  news  and  far  lighter 
hearts  than  when  they  returned  from  their  former 
journey.  Instead  of  bringing  him  the  intelligence 
that  Joseph  is  dead,  or  that  Benjamin  must  be 
taken  from  him,  as  they  had  done  on  former 
occasions,  they  come  with  the  grateful  tidings 
that  Joseph  is  alive,  and  is  governour  of  the 
who'e  land  of  Egypt.  At  first  the  good  old  man 
fainted;  for  the  news  seemed  to  him  too  good  to 
be  true.     But  when  he  actually  saw  the  w^aggons 


24  OUTLINE    OF    THE 

which  Joseph  had  sent  to  convey  him  and  his 
family  to  their  new  home,  "  his  spirit  revived,  and 
he  said  —  It  is  enough;  Joseph  my  son  is  yet 
alive  ;  1  will  go  and  see  him  before  I  die." 

In  pursuance  of  this  resolution,  as  soon  as  the 
necessary  arrangements  could  be  made  for  the 
journey,  the  whole  family  set  off  for  Egypt. 
And  when  the  news  of  their  approach  reached 
Joseph,  he  made  ready  his  chariot,  and  went  out 
as  far  as  Goshen  to  meet  his  father.  Conceive 
now,  if  you  can,  what  a  meeting  that  must  have 
been !  Joseph  fell  upon  his  father's  neck — the 
father  who  had  loved  him  so  much,  and  from 
whom  he  had  been  separated  so  long  —  and 
.kissed  him  and  wept  ;  while  the  father  gave 
utterance  to  his  full  heart  in  such  language  as 
this  — "  Now,  let  me  die,  since  I  have  seen  thy 
face,  because  thou  art  yet  alive."  "  The  coat 
which  I  gave  thee  in  thy  childhood,  was  brought 
to  me  by  thy  brethren  stained  with  blood,  as  an 
evidence  that  thou  wast  dead  ;  and  my  heart  has 
a  thousand  times  bled,  as  my  imagination  has 
lingered  upon  what  I  supposed  might  have  been 
thy  dying  scene ;  and  yet,  after  all,  here  thou 
art,  my  son,  not  only  alive,  but  in  affluence  and 


HISTORY    OF   JOSEPH.  25 

honour.  God's  goodness  overwhelms  me.  It  is 
enough  —  I  am  ready  to  die,  O  Lord,  for  I  have 
seen  thy  salvation." 

Joseph  immediately  informed  Pharaoh  of  the 
arrival  of  his  family,  and  then  he  took  five  of  his 
brethren,  and  presented  them  to  him  ;  and  Pharaoh 
had  an  interview  with  them ;  after  which,  he 
brought  up  his  aged  and  venerable  father,  and 
introduced  him  to  the  king;  and  Jacob  appeared 
on  the  occasion  with  all  that  simplicity,  dignity 
and  piety,  which  became  a  prophet  and  a  patriarch  ; 
and  on  retiring  from  the  presence  of  Pharaoh,  he 
gave  him  his  blessing.  Joseph  now,  with  the 
consent  and  advice  of  the  king,  appointed  his 
father  and  brethren  their  residence  in  the  most 
desirable  part  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  there  nour- 
ished them  with  fraternal  and  filial  tender ne.ss, 
while  he  proceeded  in  the  execution  of  his  public 
trust  with  his  accustomed  fidelity. 

After  Jacob  had  been  for  some  time  in  his  new 
residence,  sustained  and  cheered  by  the  bounty  of 
his  son,  intelligence  was  brought  to  Joseph  that 
his  father  was  sick  ;  and  straightway  he  hastened 
to  his  bedside,  that  he  might  minister  to  his  last 
wants  and  receive  his  parting  blessing.     After  hp 


26  OUTLINE    OF    THE 

was  dead  he  manifested  the  deepest  grief  at  hig 
departure,  and,  with  a  gush  of  sorrow  and  affection, 
even  embraced  his  corpse.  When  the  usual  period 
of  public  mourning  had  been  fulfilled,  agreeably 
to  a  promise  which  he  had  made  to  his  father 
before  his  death,  he  caused  his  remains  to  be  carried 
back  to  Canaan  that  his  final  resting  place  might 
be  with  his  fathers. 

Shortly  after  the  death  of  Jacob,  Joseph's 
brethren  began  to  fear,  that,  since  their  father 
was  out  of  the  way,  it  might  occur  to  Joseph  to 
take  revenge  on  them  for  the  cruel  treatment 
which  he  had  received  at  their  hands  in  former 
years;  and  so  apprehensive  were  they  of  this,  that 
they  sent  a  messenger  to  him  humbly  imploring 
his  forgiveness  and  continued  protection.  Joseph 
was  deeply  affected  by  the  communication,  and 
assured  them  that  they  should  receive  nothing  from 
him  but  expressions  of  fraternal  kindness.  And 
this  promise  he  ever  most  sacredly  fulfilled.  At 
length  the  time  of  his  departure  drew  near  ;  and  hav- 
ing taken  an  oath  of  his  brethren,  that  they  would 
carry  his  bones  also  up  into  the  land  of  Egypt,  he 
died  at  the  age  of  a  hundred  and  ten  years,  and  his 
body  was  embalmed  after  the  manner  of  the  Egyp- 
tians. 


LETTERS 


TO 


YOUNG    MEN. 


PART  I. 

SOURCES  OF  DANGER  TO  YOUNG  MEH 
LETTER  I. 

SANGER    FROM    EXCESSIVE     PARENTAL    INDULGENCE: 

The  growing  conviction  which  I  have  had  for 
years  of  the  importance  of  those  interests  which  are 
soon  to  be  devolved  upon  the  young  men  of  the 
present  generation,  has,  at  different  times,  brought 
me  almost  to  the  determination  of  addressing  to 
them  a  short  series  of  letters  designed  to  impress 
them  with  a  sense  of  their  obligations,  and  to  aid 
in  the  general  formation  of  their  character.  I 
have,  however,  been  deterred  from  executing,  or 
even  forming,  a  definite  purpose  on  this  subject, 
by  the  consideration  that  many  wise  ax^  excellent 


30  DANGER    FROM    EXCESSIVE 

men  have  already  written  books  of  counsel  to  the 
young,  to  which  they  can  readily  gain  access; 
and  that  any  attempt  which  I  might  make  would 
result  in  nothing  better  than  a  repetition  of  things 
which  had  often  been  more  attractively  and  more 
impressively  said  before.  It  occurred  to  me, 
however,  lately,  as  I  was  reading  the  touching 
and  beautiful  story  of  Joseph,  that  there  is  much 
in  it  that  deserves  the  most  attentive  considera- 
tion, especially  of  every  young  man  ;  and  in  this 
thought  originated  the  purpose,  which  I  have 
now  set  myself  to  execute  —  of  endeavouring  to 
render  this  scripture  narrative  subservient  to  the 
best  interests  of  the  young  men  of  the  present 
day.  Still,  my  young  friends,  I  have  no  expecta- 
tion of  offering  any  thing  to  your  consideration 
that- is  substantially  new:  the  utmost  that  I  can 
hope  is,  that  I  may  give  increasing  effect  to  the 
counsels  which  I  shall  suggest,  by  incorporating 
them  with  a  story,  which,  in  respect  to  the  interest 
of  its  incidents  and  the  beauty  of  its  descriptions, 
is  universally  acknowledged  to  be  unrivalled  even 
in  the  sacred  scriptures.  I  have  given  you  an 
outline  of  the  history,  that  you  may  the  more 
readily  see  how  the  various  points  which  I  shall 


PARENTAL    INDULGENCE.  31 

have  occasion  to  bring  out,  connect  themselves 
with  it;  though  I  hardly  need  say  that  you  will 
do  yourselves  great  injustice,  if,  instead  of  being 
satisfied  with  any  outline,  you  do  not  study,  till 
you  have  rendered  perfectly  familiar  to  you,  the 
original  record. 

You  can  hardly  read  this  narrative  Avithout 
being  struck  with  the  fact,  that  Joseph  was  often 
placed  in  circumstances  of  great  peril  —  circum- 
stances strikingly  analogous  to  those  in  which 
young  men  are  not  unfrequently  placed  at  the 
present  day.  Indeed,  it  is  in  such  a  condition  as 
this  that  the  history  first  presents  him  to  us  —  in 
jeopardy  from  the  indiscreet  favouritism  of  his 
father.  It  Avas  certainly  an  unworthy  partiality, 
which  Jacob  discovered  towards  him,  in  the  affair 
of  the  coat:  it  was  fitted  to  excite  not  only  the 
envy  of  his  brethren  but  his  own  pride  ;  and  if  it 
did  not  produce  the  latter  effect  as  well  as  the 
former,  we  must  attribute  it  to  Joseph's  well 
balanced  character,  in  connection  perhaps  with  a 
special  divine  interposition  in  his  behalf  There 
was,  after  all,  some  apology  for  Jacob  in  thi( 
matter ;  for  not  only  was  he  far  advanced  in  life 
but  Joseph  was  evidently  distinguished  above  his 


32  DANGER   FKOM    EXCESSIVE 

Other  children,  by  his  intellectual  and  mora, 
endownnents ;  and  withal  he  was  the  son  of  his 
beloved  Rachel,  who  had  not  been  long  dead, 
and  whose  memory  he  still  cherished  with  the 
strongest  affection. 

Many  parents  beside  Jacob  are  chargeable 
with  indiscreet  preferences  in  the  treatment  of 
their  children.  I  will  not  dwell  here  upon  the 
evil  effect  that  results  to  those  who,  like  the  sons 
of  the  patriarch,  regard  themselves  as  wronged 
out  of  the  place  that  really  belongs  to  them  in 
the  affection  of  their  parents;  but  I  will  advert 
only  to  the  evil  that  is  likely  to  accrue  to  those 
who  are  the  subjects  of  an  unreasonable  partiality 
—  or  rather  who  are  the  subjects  of  excessive 
indulgence,  whether  there  be  any  preference 
manifested  in  respect  to  them  or  not.  I  say, 
then,  every  young  man  who,  either  from  having 
no  parents,  or  from  having  indiscreet  parents,  is 
left  in  the  enjoyment  of  an  undue  degree  of 
liberty,  is  in  danger — imminent  danger,  accord- 
ing to  the  nature  or  the  strength  of  his  ruling 
passion. 

There  is  danger  that  a  young  man,  who  is 
suffered  to  grow  up  in  a  great  measure  uncon- 


PARENTAL    INDULGENCE.  6o 

trolled,  will  form  a  habit  of  idleness.  We  do  not 
find  that  children,  if  left  to  themselves,  choose 
iabour:  and  where  they  form  the  habit,  it  is 
usually  the  result  of  parental  instruction,  and 
counsel,  and  perhaps  authority,  rather  than  of 
their  own  taste  or  inclination.  You  may  look  all 
the  world  over,  and  you  will  find,  with  few  excep- 
tions, that  }'oung  persons  who  are  allowed  to 
do  just  as  they  please,  show  themselves  disposed 
to  do  verv  little  —  at  least  little  to  any  good 
purpose  ;  and  the  consequence  is,  that,  at  no 
distant  period,  they  have  a  confirmed  habit  of 
idleness  which  renders  them  little  better  than  cum 
berers  of  the  ground. 

They  are  exposed  also,  from  the  same  cause,  to 
neglect  the  culture  of  their  minds,  and  thus  to 
appear  on  the  stage  of  life  with  a  claim  to 
respectability,  and  with  means  of  usefulness,  far 
less,  than  it  might  have  been  their  privilege  to 
enjoy.  There  are  indeed  some  minds  constituted 
\rith  such  decided  intellectual  tendencies,  that 
tliey  require  direction  merely,  without  any  exter- 
nal exciting  influence  ;  but  the  great  mass  of 
youthful  minds  will  in  a  measure  stagnate — 
certainly  will  not  realize  a  legitimate  develop- 
3 


34  DANGER    FROM    EXCESSIVE 

ment,  —  unless  they  are  quickened  as  well  as 
guided  by  an  influence  from  without.  You  may 
see  this  point  strikingly  illustrated  in  almost  any 
literary  institution  —  the  patient,  the  diligent,  the 
successful  students,  you  will  generally  find  to  be 
tho5e  who  have  been  accustomed  to  the  mfluence 
of  suitable  restraint ;  while  the  indolent  and  dis- 
graced, who  hold  their  places  by  mere  suflerance, 
are  as  generally  from  the  ranks  of  those  who  are 
left  from  the  beginning  with  little  that  approaches 
to  parental  control.  I  do  not  say  that  a  young 
man  may  not  evince  fine  powers,  and  yet  be 
suffered  even  from  childhood,  to  take  his  own 
way  ;  and  in  some  instances,  owing  to  a  peculiarly 
happy  mental  constitution,  or  to  a  specially  favour- 
ing Providence,  thai  way  may  prove  the  right  one, 
and  he  may  be  early  matured  for  extensive  useful 
ness ;  but  I  do  say  that,  in  all  ordinary  cases  of 
extreme  parental  indulgence,  even  the  best  powers 
remain  to  a  great  extent  uncultivated  ;  and  a  dis- 
graceful ignorance  is  always  found  to  hang  upon 
the  heels  of  an  indolent  inaction. 

Young  men  who  are  excessively  indulged,  are 
in  danger,  still  farther,  of  contracting  a  habit  of 
extravagance    in    their    pecuniary    expenditures. 


PARENTAL    INDULGENCE.  35 

Eepeciaily  is  this  true,  where  the  parent  possesses, 
or  is  supposed  to  possess,  a  large  estate  ;  for  let  a 
young  man  once  get  into  his  head  the  idea  that  ho 
has  money  enough  at  his  command,  and  thai, 
however  others  may  find  it  trecessary  to  labour  for 
a  living,  he  has  nothing  to  do  but  sit  still  and  enjoy 
an  estate  made  ready  to  his  hands  —  and  you  will 
find  that,  in  the  act  of  taking  up  this  idea,  he 
becomes  a  prodigal,  if  not  a  profligate.  It  often 
happens  that  this  painful  result  is  realized,  where 
there  is  only  a  show  of  wealth  without  the  sub- 
stance;  and  the  poor  indulged  young  man  who 
had  formed  a  habit  of  extravagance  on  the  pre- 
sumption that  his  father  was  as  rich  as  he  seemed 
to  be,  is  at  length  mortified  and  shocked  to  find 
that  what  he  regarded  substantial  wealth  was  mere 
pretension,  and  that  his  extravagant  tastes  are  in 
miserable  keeping  with  what  turns  out  to  be  his 
actual  condition.  When  this  unwelcome  discovery 
is  made,  the  danger  is,  that,  instead  of  leading  to 
better  habits,  it  will  lead  to  other  habits  of  evil, 
with  a  view  to  keep  up  those  which  have  been 
already  formed. 

I  will  only  add  that  there  is  danger,  from  this 
source,  that  young  men  will  grow  up  to  be  the 


36  DANGER    FROM    EXCESSIVE 

victims  of  unrestrained  passion.  The  passions 
constitute  a  most  important  part  of  our  moral 
nature;  and  if  they  are  not  kept  under  in  the 
beginning,  they  will  inevitably  gain  the  ascend 
ancy,  and,  at  no  distant  period,  become  the  tyrants 
of  the  soul.  Take,  for  instance,  the  passion  of 
anger — or,  if  you  please,  what  is  commonly  called 
spirit  in  a  child  — let  it  be  subject  to  suitable 
restraint  and  developed  under  the  influence  of 
right  instruction,  and  there  will  be  nothing  to  be 
feared  from  it — it  may  prove  an  element  of  dig- 
nity and  strength  and  usefulness  in  the  future 
character.  But  let  it  be  unrestrained  in  its  exer- 
cise—  let  it  blaze  forth  in  foolish  and  violent  acts 
without  meeting  a  reproof — and  you  need  not 
wonder  if  it  shall  mature  itself  by  and  by  into 
savage  ferocity  or  black  malignity  —  need  not 
wonder  if,  even  before  the  age  of  manhood  has 
arrived,  some  desperate  act  shall  draw  after  it  a 
fearful  punishment,  to  be  endured  in  a  dungeon  or 
on  a  gallows. 

It  may  occur  to  you  that  the  subject  of  this 
letter  might  more  fittingly  be  urged  on  the  consid- 
eration of  parents  and  guardians  of  youth,  than 
of  young  men  themselves ;  inasmuch  as  the  duty 


PARENTAL    INDULGENCE.  37 

to  which  it  points  devolves  primarily  upon  tlicm. 
But  let  me  say,  if  your  parents  err  ever  so  much 
in  this  matter,  you  are  still  moral  agents,  and  you 
have  no  right  to  be  misled  by  them.  Vv-'hat 
though  in  the  weakness  sometimes  incident  to 
parental  affection,  they  may  leave  you  to  choose 
your  own  course,  and  may  seem  to  take  for 
granted  that  whatever  you  do,  is,  from  the  very 
circumstance  of  your  doing  it,  right;  —  you  are  to 
regard  this  as  a  snare  which  they  have  uninten- 
tionally laid  for  you,  and  to  beware  that  you  fall 
not  into  it.  If  you  are  permitted  to  choose 
between  idleness  and  activity,  be  active.  If 
between  the  culture  and  the  neglect  of  your 
intellect,  be  studious.  If  between  a  habit  of 
economy  and  of  extravagance,  be  economical. 
If  between  the  subjection  of  your  passions  to 
your  reason,  and  the  domination  of  your  passions 
over  your  reason,  let  reason  assert  and  maintain 
the  control  to  which  she  is  entitled.  Remember 
that  you  are  to  form  a  character  for  yourselves; 
and  that  you  have  no  right  to  suffer  even  a  mis- 
guided parental  affection  to  stand  between  you 
and  a  virtuous,  honourable,  useful  life. 


38  DANGER    FROM 


LETTER  II. 

DANGER   FROJI    INJURIOUS   TREATMENT. 

There  is  no  topic  with  which  the  name  of  Joseph 
more  immediately  connects  itself  than  this.  You 
have  seen  in  the  hrief  sketch  of  his  life  that 
has  been  presented,  that,  while  he  was  yet  a 
harmless  and  lovely  boy,  he  became  the  object 
of  envy  and  persecution  from  his  brethren;  — 
that  they  at  first  formed  a  deliberate  purpose  to 
murder  him,  which  gave  Avay  only  to  another 
scarcely  less  horrible  —  that  of  selling  him  as  a 
slave;  —  that  they  actually  did  sell  him  into  an 
ignoble  bondage,  with  the  full  expectation  that  he 
would  never  meet  his  father  again,  and  that  the 
first  relief  which  he  would  find  from  his  degraded 
condition  would  be  in  the  grave : — and  all  this, 
it  is  to  be  remembered,  for  no  other  offence  on  his 
part,  than  that  of  having  had  what  his  brethren 
considered  a  bad  dream,  and  of  being  the  object 
of    his    father's    special    regard.      And    notwith 


INJURIOUS    TREATMENT,  39 

Standing  these  were  the  most  memorable  acts  of 
unkindness  toward  him  of  which  we  have  any 
knowledge,  yet  we  find,  as  we  advance  in  his 
history,  that  his  brethren  were  not  alone  in  their 
evil  treatment  of  him  —  the  wife  of  Potiphar, 
because  she  found  that  she  could  not  ruin  him  in 
one  way,  resolved  that  she  would  ruin  him  in 
another,  and  by  a  base  and  vindictive  fabrication 
caused  him,  for  a  time,  to  be  shut  up  in  prison  ; 
and  the  butler,  whose  anxiety  he  relieved  by 
interpreting  his  dream,  and  who  promised  to  use 
his  influence  for  his  being  set  at  liberty,  ungrate- 
fully forgot  his  promise,  and,  but  for  a  casual 
occurrence  in  which  the  king  was  immediately 
interested,  might  never  afterwards  have  mentioned 
Joseph's  name.  If,  taking  the  whole  of  his  life 
together,  Joseph  had  more  friends,  and  received 
more  testimonies  of  favour,  both  publick  and  pri- 
vate, than  fall  to  the  lot  of  most  men,  it  cannot 
be  denied,  on  the  other  hand,  that  very  few  have 
been  the  objects  of  such  marked  injustice  and 
persecution,  especially  from  their  own  brethren. 

It  would  be  strange,  my  young  friends,  even 
though  you  may  have  lived  but  a  few  years  in  the 
world,  if  your  brief  history  does  not  already  sup- 


40  DANGER   FROM 

ply  some  cases  in  which  you  regard  yourselves  as 
having  been  the  subjects  of  injurious  treatment; 
and  it  would  be  yet  more  strange,  if  this  should 
be  true  of  you  when  you  reach  your  maturity.  I 
am  well  aware  that  young  men  are  generally  too 
prone  to  fancy  injuries  where  none  are  intended  ; 
and  not  unfrequently  a  merely  imaginary  insult 
awakens  a  spirit  of  complaint  or  retaliation,  Avhich, 
in  turn,  is  visited  with  some  substantial  injury  ; 
and  however  unjustifiable  the  infliction  of  the 
injury  may  be,  the  person  who  has  needlessly  and 
foolishly  provoked  it,  must  at  least  come  in  for  a 
share  of  the  guilt.  But,  leaving  out  of  view 
these  cases,  there  are  many  in  which  young  men 
are  the  subjects  of  injurious  treatment,  where 
their  own  previous  conduct  has  been  altogether 
exemplary.  Sometimes  their  just  rights  are  un- 
reasonably infringed  by  the  avarice  of  their 
employers ;  and  an  amount  of  service  is  required 
of  them  which  it  is  altogether  unreasonable  — 
perhaps  impossible,  that  they  should  render. 
Sometimes  their  necessary  wants  are  overlooked, 
and  the  pledge  that  has  been  made  to  their  parents 
to  provide  for  them  suitable  food  and  clothing,  is 
wantonly  violated.     And  sometimes  too  their  feel- 


INJURIOUS    TREAPMENT.  41 

ings  are  continually  fretted  or  even  lacerated  by  a 
spirit  of  fault  finding — when  they  have  done  their 
best,  they  are  still  met  with  sullen  looks,  if  not 
with  reproachful  and  angry  words.  And  it  is  not 
merely  from  those  in  whose  service  they  are,  that 
young  men  are  liable  to  receive  offensive  treatment, 
but  from  each  other  also  ;  and  perhaps  the  danger 
is  greater  in  the  latter  case  than  in  the  former. 
For  the  fact  that  they  are  nearly  of  the  same  age, 
brings  them  into  more  immediate  contact ;  they 
feel  a  greater  freedom  both  in  respect  to  their 
words  and  actions ;  and  that  which  begins  in 
sport  often  terminates  in  an  affray.  In  cases  of 
this  kind,  it  usually  happens  indeed  that  the  blame 
is  shared  by  both  parties ;  and  yet  it  is  by  no 
means  uncommon  for  a  young  man  to  become  the 
object  of  persecution  from  his  fellows,  without 
having  given  even  a  semblance  of  a  cause  for 
their  ill  will — nay,  this  has  often  occurred  for  no 
other  reason,  than  that  he  would  not  be  a  party  to 
their  evil  plans,  or  a  screen  to  their  evil  deeds. 

It  is  proper  to  remark  here,  that  there  are  many 
ivils  to  which  you  may  be  exposed  from  the 
njurious  treatment  that  is  exercised  towards  you, 
in  respect  to  which  you  need  give  yourselves  no 


42  DANGER    FROM 

serious  trouble.  You  may  be  cheated  out  of  youi 
property,  and  thus  your  means  of  worldly  comfort 
may  be  greatly  abridged.  Your  innocent  and 
perhaps  praiseworthy  actions  may  be  grossly  mis- 
represented, and,  in  consequence  of  this,  your 
good  name  may,  for  some  time,  seem  actually  to 
lie  under  a  cloud.  You  may  be  prevented,  by 
sheer  malignity,  from  occupying  some  post  of 
influence  and  usefulness,  for  which  you  have  the 
most  ample  qualifications,  and  upon  which  your 
eye  and  your  heart  have  long  been  fixed.  Each 
of  these  you  may  regard  as  a  serious  evil — and 
so  indeed  it  may  be ;  .and  yet,  after  all,  it  is 
nothing  from  which,  in  the  issue,  you  have  any 
thing  to  fear.  If  God,  in  his  providence,  suffers 
these  things  to  befall  you,  He  has  wise  reasons 
for  doing  so ;  and  if  it  is  not  your  own  fault,  you 
will,  ere  long,  find  occasion  to  rejoice  in  them. 
He  has  constituted  things  in  such  a  manner,  that, 
in  all  ordinary  cases,  the  oppressor  and  the  unjust 
man  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  sufferer  from 
oppression  and  injustice  on  the  other,  each  finds 
his  proper  place,  —  and  that  too,  at  no  distant 
period.  I  could  point  you  to  many  cases  stri- 
kingly   illustrative   of  this   feature  in  the  divine 


INJURIOUS    TREATMENT.  43 

economy ;  but  I  will  only  say,  if  you  are  your- 
selves the  sufierers,  fear  not.  Wait  a  little,  and 
in  all  probability  the  dishonour  done  to  youi 
character  will  be  retrieved ;  the  darkness  which 
had  seemed  to  settle  around  you  will  pass  away. 
But  even  if  it  should  be  otherwise  —  if  the  injustice 
of  your  fellow  creatures  should  prevail  against  you 
to  your  dying-  day, — if  you  have  suffered  with  a 
right  spirit,  you  will  find  your  remedy  and  your 
recompense  then,  in  the  joys  of  a  better  and  nobler 
existence. 

But  there  is  another  class  of  evils  to  which  you 
are  exposed  from  the  injurious  treatment  you  may 
receive,  which  are  far  more  formidable,  and  against 
which  you  have  reason  to  guard  with  most  vigilant 
concern  —  evils,  I  mean,  as  connected  with  your 
own  temper  and  conduct.  Suffer  me  to  mention  a 
few  of  them. 

Your  first  danger  on  the  reception  of  an  injury, 
especially  if  it  be  an  unlooked  for  injury,  is,  that 
you  will  become  unduly  excited,  and  in  this  state 
of  feeling  say  or  do  things,  which  will  at  least 
require  to  be  repented  of,  and  possibly  subject  you 
to  the  most  serious  inconvenience.  All  this  may 
be  distinct  from  any  definite  and  deliberate  pur- 


44  DANGER    FROM 

pose  of  evil  —  it  may  be  a  mere  gust  of  passion, 
which  may  subside  in  a  moment,  though  possibly 
the  moment  through  which  it  lasts,  may  be  remem- 
bered with  bitter  regret,  so  long  as  any  thing  earthly 
is  the  subject  of  recollection. 

But  the  danger  is,  that  the  consequences  of 
your  having  been  injuriously  treated  will  not  stop 
here — that,  instead  of  dismissing  the  subject  from 
your  mind,  to  be  recalled  only  as  an  occasiqn  for 
self  condemnation  and  repentance,  you  will  brood 
over  it,  magnifying  its  features  of  provocation  and 
insult,  till  the  dark  spirit  of  revenge  gets  thorough 
possession  of  your  bosom.  Be  it  so,  that,  from 
fear  or  from  some  selfish  considerations,  you  are 
prevented  from  even  forming  a  purpose  to  injure 
the  person  who  has  injured  you — but  still  you 
.wish  you  could  do  it  with  impunity;  and  you  are 
hoping  that  others  who  are  more  courageous  than 
you,  may  do  it ;  or  that  God  may  do  it  by  sending 
some  great  providential  calamity ;  and  you  stand 
ready  to  begin  your  exultation,  the  moment  your 
enemy  begins  to  writhe.  You  are  like  one  who 
has  swallowed  a  living  viper,  and  feels  its  deadly 
corrosions  every  moment.  By  a  habit  of  self- 
command,   you  may  so   far  control   yourself,  that 


INJURIOUS    TREATMENT.  45 

even  those  who  scrutinize  your  conduct  the  most 
closely,  shall  not  k\io\v  or  suspect  what  is  passing 
within  you;  but  nothing  can  make  you  happy  — 
nothing  can  save  you  from  being  wretched,  till 
this  enemy  of  your  peace  is  effectually  dislodged. 

Remember,  further,  that  the  spirit  of  revenge 
never  occupies  the  bosom  alone.  While  it  creates 
an  atmosphere  in  which  all  gentle  and  kind  and 
virtuous  dispositions  die,  it  quickens  into  life 
every  latent  seed  of  evil,  and  even  attracts  to 
itself  fierce  auxiliaries  from  the  abodes  of  darkness. 
I  do  not  say  that  a  revengeful  man  may  not  play 
the  hypocrite,  and  pass  for  something  that  he  is 
not ;  but  I  do  say  that,  if  you  could  penetrate  the 
interior  of  his  heart,  you  would  find  it  only  a 
region  of  darkness  and  storms — of  thorns  and 
briers,  that  is  nigh  unto  cursing. 

But  it  is  not  always,  nor  even  generally,  that 
the  revengeful  spirit  is  thus  kept  in  check:  in 
most  instances  where  it  is  thoroughly  aroused, 
it  never  rests  until  it  is  satiated.  Perhaps  it 
breaks  out  at  once  in  some  desperate  act,  which 
meets  its  punishment  in  years  spent  in  the  peni 
tentiary.  Perhaps  it  seems,  for  the  time,  to  take 
little   note   of  the   injury ;   and    months  or  even 


46  DANGER    FROM,    ETC. 

years  may  pass  away,  and  yet  no  hostile  demon- 
stration be  made  ;  but  this  Avhole  period  may  prove 
to  have  been  occupied  with  the  preparation  for 
some  fiendlike  assault;  and  the  assault  may  prove 
the  more  terrible,  from  the  fact  of  its  having  been 
so  long  delayed.  What  a  fearful  bearing  on  this 
subject  has  the  history  of  duelling!  Many  a 
young  man,  under  some  slight  sense  of  injury, 
has  sent  a  challenge,  which  has  resulted  in  his 
going  into  the  field,  to  come  back  a  murderer, 
--iL  or  to  be  brought  back  a  corpse.  Besides  these 
greater  evils  which  may  follow  in  the  train  of 
injurious  treatment,  I  may  mention  that  there  is 
danger  also,  that  it  will  beget  a  morbid  distrust 
and  dislike  of  mankind  in  general.  Let  a  young 
man,  with  the  little  experience  wdiich  he  has  had 
of  the  world,  meet  with  some  signal  instance  or 
instances  of  injustice  or  cruelty  from  those  from 
whom  he  had  a  right  to  expect  better  things — 
espesially  as  in  the  case  of  Joseph,  from  near 
relatives,  and  it  will  be  strange,  if  it  does  not 
lead  him  to  judge  others  with  undue  severity,  and 
even  sometimes  to  withholcr  confidence  without 
any  adequate  reason.  Thus  his  disposition  be- 
comes poisoned,  his  habits  morose,  and  his  social 


DANGER  FROM,  ETC.  47 

relations  a   channel   of  little   good   either  to  his 
friends  or  the  world. 

U  you  would  avoid  the  evils  at  which  I  have 
hinted  in  this  letter,  make  up  your  mind  that  you 
cannot  long  escape  injurious  treatment  of  some 
kind,  and  resolve  that  you  will  be  governed,  in 
view  of  it,  only  by  those  rules  which  Chr:*tianity 
prescribes. 


LETTER  III. 

DANGER   FROM    LIVING   AWAY   FROM   HOME. 

It  was  the  lot  of  Joseph,  while  he  was  yet  a 
mere  stripling,  to  be  removed  from  beneath  the 
watchful  eye  of  his  father,  and  to  be  thrown,  at 
that  most  critical  period  of  life,  altogether  among 
strangers.  Little  indeed  did  his  father  imagine, 
when  he  sent  him  out  to  make  a  friendly  visit  to 
his  brethren,  with  a  view  to  bring  him  tidings 
concerning  their  welfare,  that  such  was  to  be  his 


48  DANGER    FROM   LIVING 

lot :  he  expected  that,  in  a  short  time,  he  would 
be  with  him  again,  and  that  he  should  have  the 
privilege,  for  years,  of  exerting  a  direct  influence 
in  the  formation  of  his  character.  But  a  result 
very  diflerent  from  this  had  Providence  ordained. 
The  separation  which  both  Joseph  and  his  father 
supposed  would  be  very  brief,  proved  to  be  a 
separation  for  years  ;  and  those  too,  years,  in 
respect  to  Joseph,  in  which  a  well-directed  paren- 
tal influence  is  of  the  greatest  moment, 

Notwithstanding  the  circumstances  in  which 
the  early  separation  of  Joseph  from  his  father 
took  place,  may  have  never  had  their  parallel  in 
human  experience,  the  separation  itself  was  only 
an  occurrence  which  is  injcidental  to  a  large 
portion  of  our  young  men,  several  years  before 
they  leave  their  minority.  Some  are  placed,  at  a 
very  early  period,  at  boarding  schools,  and,  a  few 
years  later,  are  sent  to  college.  Others  go  from 
home  to  learn  a  mechanical  trade ;  others,  to 
acquire  a  mercantile  education ;  and  others  still 
to  travel — perhaps  with,  perhaps  without,  a 
companion,  in  foreign  countries.  Though  there 
are  doubtless  many  cases  in  which  young  men 
leave  the  parental  roof  prematurely,  or  for  pur- 


AWAY    FROM    HOME.  49 

poses  which  cannot  be  justified,  yet  it  seems  to  oe 
the  ordinance  of  Providence  that,  in  most  cases, 
after  a  few  of  their  earlier  years  are  past,  they 
should  be  thrown,  more  or  less,  away  from  home, 
with  reference  to  their  ulterior  and  permanent 
arrangements.  A  large  proportion  of  those  who 
have  passed  the  age  of  sixteen  or  seventeen,  are  in 
circumstances  which  make  them  only  occasional 
visitors,  rather  than  stated  residents,  at  the 
domestic  mansion.  Without  complaining  of  this 
arrangement  of  providence — for  a  providential 
arrangement  it  certainly  is — I  maintain  that 
there  are  great  dangers  incident  to  it;  —  dangers 
against  which  every  young  man  should  be  on  his 
guard,  as  he  values  his  own  best  interests,  and 
the  hopes  and  the  happiness  of  those  who  are  most 
dear  to  him. 

As  I  suppose  myself,  for  the  present,  to  be 
addressing  young  men  who  either  are,  or  are 
soon  to  be,  in  the  circumstances  to  which  I  have 
referred,  let  me  say,  in  the  first  place,  that  your 
danger  results,  in  no  small  degree,  from  the  fact 
that,  while  the  temptations  which  you  have  to 
encounter,  may  generally  be  supposed  to  be 
increased  by  a  residence  away  from  home,  there 


50  DANGER,    FROM    LIVING 

is  a  proportional  diminution  of  those  external 
influences  which  are  fitted  to  enable  3'ou  to  meet 
them  successfully. 

No  situation  indeed  can  be  found,  in  which  a 
young-  man  will  be  entirely  exempt  from  tempta- 
tion ;  and  yet  perhaps  there  is  none  in  which 
fewer  temptations  will  meet  him,  than  that  which 
he  holds  as  the  natural  member  of  an  enlightened 
and  virtuous  family.  The  mere  fact  of  a  change 
from  this — of  any  change  which  he  may  make  — 
will  be  likely  to  have  in  it  the  elements  of  danger; 
for  it  will  almost  of  course  give  some  new  direc- 
tion, or  some  new  impulse,  to  his  faculties  and 
feelings ;  and  with  the  evil  tendencies  that  belong 
to  human  nature,  there  is  always  a  chance  at  least 
that  it  will  be  less  for  good  than  for  evil.  In 
addition  to  this,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the 
new  circumstances  into  which  he  is  thrown  by  the 
change,  will  have  far  more  in  them  that  will 
invite  to  evil  than  he  has  been  accustomed  to  find 
m  his  previous  situation.  Perhaps  from  the  quiet 
)f  a  country  home  he  goes  to  reside  in  the  city, 
where  temptations  of  some  kind  or  other  meet 
him  on  every  side :  here  especially  the  path  to 
vice — the  path  to  ruin,  is  bestrewed  with  flowers ; 


AWAY   FROM   HOME.  51 

and  the  danger  is  that  he  will  have  started  in  it, 
and  have  advanced  too  far  to  be  withdrawn, 
while  yet  he  has  scarcely  a  conception  of  the 
fatal  direction  in  which  he  is  travelling-.  No 
matter  what  his  occupation  may  be  —  whether  it 
be  that  of  a  scholar,  or  a  merchant's  clerk,  or  an 
apprentice  to  a  mechanic,  it  will  have  its  peculiar 
temptations — temptations  differing,  in  some  re- 
spects, from  those  to  which  he  has  been  previously 
accustomed. 

Now  view  the  subject  in  another  aspect,  and 
see  how  the  danger  is  heightened  from  the 
diminution  of  those  influences  which  are  fitted  to 
neutralize  the  power  of  temptation.  There  is 
nothing  like  a  healthful  domestic  influence  to 
guard  a  young  man  from  the  snares  that  beset 
him ;  or,  if  he  has  begun  to  meditate  evil, 
nothing  like  this  to  destroy  the  incipient  purpose. 
Suppose  he  has  yielded  to  temptation  in  a  single 
instance  —  has  violated  the  convictions  of  his 
conscience  and  the  often  expressed  wishes  of  his 
parents,  by  some  evil  deed  which  is  known  only 
to  himself,  and  perhaps  one  or  two  of  his  asso- 
ciates; —  do  you  imagine  that  he  will  be  able 
to   meet   the   eye    of  his  parents,  as  if  he   were 


52  DANGER    FROM    LIVING 

conscious  of  having  clean  hands  and  a  pure  heart? 
Rely  on  it,  though  they,  in  their  ignorance,  may 
administer  no  reproof,  yet  his  own  conscience 
will  speak  in  their  behalf,  and  convict  him  of 
monstrous  filial  ingratitude  ;  and  there  is  some 
reason  to  hope  that  the  result  will  be  a  resolute 
determination  to  be  found  no  more  in  the  path  of 
the  tempter.  But  in  all  ordinary  cases,  it  is  to 
be  presumed  that  a  suitable  parental  influence 
will  prevent,  in  a  great  measure,  the  evil  to  which 
I  have  here  referred ;  or.  if  vicious  tendencies 
begin  to  develop  themselves,  that  parental  vigi- 
lance will  be  quick  to  discover  them,  and  parental 
fidelity  prompt  and  earnest  to  reprove  and  correct 
them.  And  besides  the  influence  of  parents,  there 
is  often  the  influence  of  other  members  of  the 
family,  particularly  of  sisters,  that  is  fitted  to 
check  his  wayward  propensities,  and  save  him 
from  rushing  into  the  haunts  of  vice  ;  for  a  sister's 
voice  will  often  be  heard  and  heeded,  where  any 
L'ther  voice,  except  that  of  a  mother,  may  plead 
m  vain.  But  if,  as  we  are  obliged  to  admit,  even 
m  these  most  propitious  circumstances,  there  are 
many  young  men  who  not  only  betray  wayward 
tendencies,  but  wander  irrecoverably,  how  much 


AWAY   FROM   HOME.  53 

greater  the  danger,  where  these  favouring  influ- 
ences do  not  exist;  —  where  the  individuals  are, 
in  a  great  measure,  beyond  the  reach  of  parental 
watchfulness  and  counsel  and  restraint;  —  where 
they  may  yield  to  their  perverse  inclinations,  and 
not  be  obliged,  the  next  hour,  to  meet  the  eye 
which,  of  all  eyes  on  earth,  is  most  dreadful  to  a 
guilty  child !  Perhaps,  too,  they  were  accus- 
tomed at  home  to  circle  the  altar  of  prayer, 
morning  and  evening,  whereas  now  they  may  be 
cut  off  from  this  privilege  also ;  and  Avho  does 
not  see  that  the  very  habit  of  mingling  in  such 
an  exercise,  even  where  there  may  be  much 
less  of  the  spirit  of  devotion  than  could  be 
desired,  is  adapted  to  fortify  the  mind  in  some 
measure  against  temptation  ;  and  that  a  sudden 
transition  to  a  prayerless  domestic  circle,  must 
almost  inevitably  weaken  the  barriers  which  a 
religious  education  may  have  imposed  against 
unreasonable  and  sinful  indulgences. 

There  is,  also,  if  I  mistake  not,  an  influence 
favourable  to  virtuous  dispositions  in  that  inter- 
change of  social  and  kindly  and  affectionate 
feeling,  that  is  peculiar  to  one's  own  family  circle. 
This,  of  course,  takes  for  granted,  that  the  family 


54  DANGER    FROM    LIVING 

is,  in  some  degree,  what  it  should  be — a  nursery 
of  all  those  good  affections  which  enter  into  the 
true  idea  of  hoiiie ;  —  for  it  is  quite  possible  that 
a  child  may  have  such  a  home,  that  the  greatest 
blessing  that  can  come  to  him,  may  be  that  of  a 
permanent  separation  from  it.  But,  where  the 
members  of  a  family  cultivate  toward  each  other 
a  truly  benevolent  spirit,  and  cherish  a  warm 
interest  in  each  other's  happiness,  and  a  tender 
sympathy  in  each  other's  sorrows,  it  is  certainly  a 
privilege  to  be  one  of  them — not  merely  on 
account  of  the  rational  and  elevated  enjoyment  of 
which  each  becomes  a  sharer,  but  especially  on 
account  of  the  influence  which  is  hereby  exerted 
in  communicating  a  general  refinement  and  eleva- 
tion to  the  character.  But,  let  a  young  man  be 
taken  out  of  such  a  domestic  circle,  and  carried 
into  one  to  which  he  is  in  no  way  allied,  and  in 
which  perhaps  there  is  no  interest  felt  in  him  apart 
from  that  which  is  felt  in  the  payment  for  his 
board,  and  you  see  at  once  there  is  danger  that  his 
generous  affections  will  soon  begin  to  stagnate, 
and  that  a  selfish,  not  to  say  an  unsocial,  spirit  will 
gradually  creep  over  him. 

Moreover,  a  young  man  in  the  circumstances 


AWAY   FROM   HOME.  55 

which  I  am  supposing,  is  in  danger  of  contracting 
a  false  sense  of  independence.  Hitherto  he  has 
always  been  within  the  reach  of  his  mother's 
eye,  or  his  father's  hand ;  and  perhaps  he  has 
never  even  begun  to  learn  how  to  resist  parental 
counsels,  or  break  away  from  parental  restraints ; 
and  possibly  it  may  have  never  occurred  to  him 
that  he  was  capable  of  doing  either.  But  the 
change  in  his  condition  has  revealed  to  him  his 
mistake.  He  finds  himself  with  new  ideas  of 
liberty :  and  with  the  change  in  his  ideas,  there 
quickly  comes  a  corresponding  change  in  his 
conduct.  He  demonstrates  to  himself  his  inde- 
pendence, by  treating  the  good  principles  with 
which  his  mind  had  been  stored,  as  childish  and 
unworthy  prejudices.  The  feeling  which  has 
got  possession  of  him  is  both  unsuitable  and 
unlovely ;  and  its  practical  development  can  be 
nothing  but  unmixed  evil.  Many  a  parent  whose 
child  has  returned  to  him  after  a  temporary 
separation,  has  been  shocked  and  distressed  at 
observing  that  in  his  manner  which  has  indicated 
this  painful  change  ;  and  he  has  been  afraid  to 
inquire  concerning  the  last  chapter  in  his  history, 


56  DANGER    FROM,    ETC. 

lest  it  should  be  a  record  of  evil  doings  that  would 
make  his  heart  bleed. 

In  the  course  of  my  observation,  numerous 
cases  have  occurred,  which  furnish  a  sad  illus- 
tration of  the  danger  which  it  has  been  the  design 
of  this  letter  to  set  before  you.  One  in  particular 
occurs  to  me  at  this  moment,  of  which  I  will  give 
you  the  outline,  though  it  is  only  one  of  a  class, 
to  which  it  would  not  be  easy  to  assign  a  limit. 
I  knew  a  lad  who  entered  one  of  our  colleges,  a 
few  years  since,  at  the  age  of  fourteen,  who,  up 
to  that  period,  had  always  been  under  the  imme- 
diate care  of  his  mother-^ a  mother,  eminent  both 
for  her  intelligence  and  piety.  He  possessed 
natural  attractions  to  which  few  young  men, 
whom  I  have  ever  known,  could  lay  claim.  His 
form  was  perfect  symmetry  ;  his  countenance  was 
brightness  mingled  with  loveliness ;  his  voice  was 
melody ;  and  his  manners  the  very  perfection  of 
grace  and  beautiful  simplicity.  He  was  a  fine 
scholar  —  equally  at  home  in  every  branch  to 
which  his  attention  was  directed.  And  more  than 
that — he  had  a  high  sense  of  moral  rectitude, 
and  was  understood  to  be  very  exact  in  his  habits 
of  devotion.     But  he  was  removed  from  parental 


DANGER    FROM,    ETC.  57 

influence,  and  the  shock  was  greater  than  he  could 
bear.  Notwithstanding  vigorous  efforts  were  made 
to  save  him,  nothing  could  arrest  him  in  the  down- 
ward way.  From  being  an  example  of  industiy, 
he  soon  settled  into  a  drone  ;  his  habit  of  respect- 
ful modesty  gave  way  to  a  revolting  impudence  — 
his  habit  of  sobriety  to  intemperance  —  his  habit 
of  devotion  to  profaneness ;  and  within  a  few 
short  months,  he  was  transformed  into  a  thorough 
profligate.  He  was  dismissed  from  college,  as 
one  whose  pestiferous  influence  could  no  longer 
be  tolerated  ;  he  passed  a  few  years  as  a  vagabond, 
and  then  died  a  drunkard's  death.  While  he  lived 
at  home,  he  was  an  example  of  all  that  was  virtu- 
ous and  lovely  ;  but  when  he  wenifrom  home,  he 
yielded  to  temptation  and  was  ruined. 

My  young  friends,  whom  Providence  has  sepa- 
rated from  the  direct  influences  of  a  Christian 
home,  let  such  instances  as  this  be  to  you  as  a 
volume  of  warning.  May  God  enable  you  so  to 
realize  your  danger,  and  so  to  act  in  view  of  it, 
that  your  history  may  hereafter  be  referred  to,  as 
illustrating  the  triumph  and  the  rewards  of  virtue 
in  trying  circumstances. 


58  DANGER    FROM   LIVING   IN   A 


LETTER  IV. 

DANGER     FROM    LIVING    IN     A     CORRUPT     STATE     OI 
SOCIETY. 

In  the  preceding  letter,  your  attention  was 
directed  to  the  peculiar  temptations  incident  to 
the  condition  of  Joseph,  as  living  away  from 
home,  and  beyond  the  immediate  range  of  parental 
influence.  But  this  was  not  all.  It  is  possible 
that  a  youth  may  leave  one  good  home  for  another ; 
and  however  much  he  may  lose  in  being  beyond 
the  reach  of  a  parent's  voice  that  used  to  counsel 
and  instruct  him,  and  lead  him  to  the  throne  of 
the  heavenly  grace,  that  loss  may,  in  a  measure  at 
least,  be  made  up  by  the  religious  privileges 
incident  to  his  new  condition.  Very  different, 
however,  was  the  case  of  Joseph.  By  the  same 
course  of  events  that  separated  him  from  the 
home  of  his  childhood,  he  was  thrown  among 
strangers,  who,  at  first,  had  no  other  interest  in 
him  than  they  had  in  any  common  slave  ;  and, 


COraiUPT    STATE    OF    SOCIETY.  59 

more  than  that,  they  were  idolaters — they  were 
ignorant  of  the  God  which  Joseph  had  been 
taught  to  worship,  and  offered  their  blind  and 
senseless  homage  to  a  stupid  animal.  And  we 
may  judge  something  of  what  the  standard  of 
morals  was,  by  what  we  know  of  the  morality  of 
Pagan  nations  at  the  present  day.  The  multitude 
were  false,  sensual,  cruel ;  and  the  darkness,  which 
subsequently  constituted  one  of  the  Egyptian 
plagues,  was  but  a  feeble  representation  of  that 
gross  moral  darkness  in  which  the  land  was  now 
enveloped.  Think  of  a  youth,  of  the  age  of 
Joseph,  being  thrown  into  circumstances  like 
these,  without  a  single  friend  to  point  him  to  the 
right,  or  to  admonish  him  of  the  wrong ;  and  say 
whether  you  can  conceive  of  a  situation  that  sup- 
plies a  severer  ordeal  to  youthful  virtue. 

And  yet,  this  condition  in  its  substantial  features, 
is  the  condition  of  many  a  young  man  of  the 
present  day  —  some  of  you  no  doubt  into  whose 
hands  these  pages  may  fall,  will  recognize  it  as 
your  own.  In  the  best  state  of  society,  there  is 
wickedness  enough  to  constitute  just  ground  for 
watchfulness  against  corrupting  influences ;  bu/ 
there  are  places  that  are  signalized  by  the  preva 


60  DANGER   FROM   LIVING   IN   A 

lence  of  vice — places  in  Christian  countries — 
even  in  our  own  country — in  wliich  virtue  can 
scarcely  gain  a  lodgment,  and  scenes  of  base 
intrigue  or  reckless  violence  make  part  of  the 
history  of  almost  every  day.  As  a  general  rule, 
I  would  say  that,  in  the  selection  of  a  permanent 
residence,  you  should  pay  much  respect  to  the 
consideration  whether  the  place  be  characterized 
by  a  regard  to  morality  and  religion ;  for  you  may 
rest  assured  that  any  pecuniary  advantages  which 
it  may  afford,  will  be  but  an  ill  compensation  for 
the  evil  of  being  constantly  subjected  to  a  corrupt- 
ing influence.  But  there  are  cases  in  which 
young  men  have  been  born  in  these  unpropitious 
circumstances,  and  it  is  almost  a  matter  of  course 
that  they  continue  in  them,  at  least  during  their 
earlier  years.  And  then  again,  there  are  various 
events  of  providence  which  may  occur  to  remove 
them  from  a  more  to  a  less  favoured  region,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  fact  that  they  may  be  led  to  make 
such  a  change  from  conscientious  considerations — 
from  a  desire  to  place  themselves  in  a  situation 
where  they  may  labour  to  the  best  advantage  in 
the  work  of  reformation.  Where  this  latter  motive 
operates,  it  may  be  regarded  as  furnishing,  of  itself, 


COKRUPT   STATE    OF    SOCIETY.  6i 

soine  security  against  the  influence  of  temptation  ; 
and  yet  so  much  of  weakness  is  there  pertaining 
even  to  human  virtue,  that  no  individual  —  espe- 
cially no  young  man — who  ventures  into  the 
circumstances  to  which  I  am  referring,  can  be  so 
sure  that  he  shall  stand,  but  that  he  has  good 
reason  to  take  heed  lest  he  fall. 

That  you  may  be  duly  impressed  with  the 
danger  that  pertains  to  this  condition,  consider,  in 
the  first  place,  that  it  supposes  the  absence  of  those 
encouragements  and  restraints  which  belong  to  a 
different  state  of  society,  and  in  which  virtue  finds 
her  chief-  support.  Perhaps  the  sabbath,  instead 
of  being  regarded  with  the  reverence  which  it 
deserves,  is  prostituted  to  worldly  and  sinful 
purposes — to  purposes  of  gain,  or  amusement,  or 
sensuality.  Perhaps  the  institutions  of  Christianity 
do  not  exist  at  all,  or  exist  only  in  name — if  there 
is  preaching,  it  may  be  "  another  gospel "  that  is 
preached,  upon  which  God's  blessing  cannot  be 
expected  to  rest.  And  public  opinion,  which, 
when  properly  directed,  is  mighty  for  good,  may 
be  ill  directed,  and  therefore,  instead  of  being  a 
barrier  against  evil,  may  be  a  powerful  auxiliary 
to  it.     If  you  are  already  established  in  the  ways 


62  DANGER    FROM    LIVING   IN   A 

of  truth  and  virtue,  how  much  are  you  indebted 
to  the  benign  influences  of  Christian  institutions; 
or  if  you  have  been  preserved  from  open  vice, 
and  have  been  enabled  to  maintain  a  fair  moral 
character,  are  you  sure  that  you  would  have 
attained  even  this,  independently  of  the  thousand 
nameless  influences  which  a  pure  Christianity  has 
brought  to  bear  upon  you  ?  Suppose,  in  either 
case,  all  these  influences  had  been  withdrawn — 
suppose  the  sabbath,  and  the  preaching  of  the 
gospel,  and  a  correct  public  sentiment,  had  done 
nothing  for  you,  i-n  the  way  of  restraining,  or 
directing,  or  encouraging  —  who  can  say  but  that 
you,  who  are  now  walking  in  the  comforts  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  might  have  been  open  apostates ;  and 
you  who  are  contributing  to  the  strength  and 
happiness  of  society  by  your  generally  discreet 
and  exemplary  deportment,  might  have  been  mise- 
rable profligates  or  scoffing  infidels  ? 

But  there  are  evil  influences  of  a  more  positive 
kind,  connected  with  the  state  of  society  which  I 
am  supposing.  Particularly,  there  is  the  influence 
of  corrupt  example,  which  is  alike  insidious  and 
deadly  in  its  operation ;  and  which,  from  the  few 
checks  that  the  existing  state  of  things  supplies 


CORRUrr    STATE    OF   SOCIETY.  63 

is  likely  to  become  an  all  pervading  element.  A 
little  reflection  will  discover  to  you  the  process 
by  which  it  operates.  First,  the  raind  becomes 
familiarized  to  vice ;  and  such  are  the  evil  ten- 
dencies of  our  nature,  that  familiarity  rather 
inspires  attachment,  than  awakens  disgust.  The 
moral  perceptions  and  sensibilities  gradually 
become  blunted  ;  the  dread  of  being  singular 
operates  with  diminished  power ;  resolutions  of 
amendment  grow  weaker,  and  apologies  are  more 
readily  admitted,  until,  at  no  distant  period,  the 
doors  of  the  heart  are  thrown  open  to  welcome 
every  temptation.  No  one  can  know  the  power 
of  this  influence,  who  has  never  been  exposed  to 
it ;  nor  can  any  one  know  how  much  of  vigilance 
and  resolution  are  necessary  to  withstand  it,  who 
has  not  made  the  experiment. 

I  must  be  allowed  to  say,  in  this  connection, 
that  there  is  no  species  of  sinful  indulgence,  to 
which  the  circumstances  which  I  am  supposing 
more  strongly  solicit  young  men,  than  sensuality. 
Never  was  there  a  more  striking  illustration  of 
this,  than  occurred  in  the  temptation  which  Joseph 
had  to  encounter  from  the  profligate  wife  of  his 
master.     She  not  only  invited  but  urged  him  into 


64  DANGER    FROM    LIVING   IN   A 

"  the  way  to  hell " ;  and  because  he  resisted  her 
cruel  solicitations,  she  took  vengeance  upon  him, 
at  the  expense  of  an  abominable  falsehood.  The 
animal  appetites  make  part  of  our  original  consti- 
tution ;  and  when  kept  in  due  subjection,  they 
accomplish  an  important  end  ;  but  when  they  are 
suffered  to  act  the  part  of  tyrants,  they  constitute 
a  most  degrading  ministry  in  the  soul,  and  as  sure 
as  the  ordinance  of  heaven  changes  not,  ultimately 
destroy  both  soul  and  body  in  hell.  There  is 
scarcely  a  vice  that  does  not  find  its  legitimate 
aliment  in  sensuality.  While,  by  its  own  direct 
influence,  it  changes  the  man  into  a  brute,  it  puts 
other  principles  of  his  nature  into  operation,  by 
means  of  which  he  becomes  also  a  fiend.  While 
I  am  writing  this  paragraph,  there  is  the  utmost 
excitement  prevailing  in  a  neighbouring  city,  in 
consequence  of  a  most  brutal  murder  that  has  just 
occurred  as  the  immediate  result  of  licentious 
indulgence  ;  and  the  hand  of  retributive  justice 
is,  at  this  moment,  searching  for  the  wretched 
murderer,  to  visit  upon  him  the  punishment  which 
his  crimes  have  merited.  No  language  could 
adequately  set  forth  the  danger  to  which  young 
men  are  exposed  from  the  vice  to  which  I  here 


CORRUPT    STATE    OF    SOCIETY.  65 

refer.  It  is  a  subject  upon  which  I  cannot  dwell; 
though  1  am  willing  to  hope  that  this  passing 
allusion  maj'^  serve  to  awaken  or  quicken  both 
your  reflection  and  sensibility  in  respect  to  its 
importance.  If  other  vices  have  slain  their  thou- 
sands, it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  this  has  slain 
its  ten  thousands. 

And  while  there  is  much  to  be  feared,  in  this 
state  of  things,  from  the  general  influence  of  evil 
example,  and  the  frequent  solicitations  to  criminal 
indulgence,  there  is  perhaps  scarcely  less  danger 
from  the  direct  efforts  that  will  be  made  to 
propagate  errour,  and  thus  to  corrupt  the  very 
fountains  of  moral  feeling.  Go  into  whatever 
place  you  will,  where  religion  is  treated,  with 
general  neglect,  and  its  institutions  have  little,  if 
any  thing,  more  than  a  nominal  existence,  and 
you  will  find,  almost  of  course,  that  there  are 
veterans  in  infidelity  as  well  as  veterans  in  vice ; 
and  it  is  more  than  you  have  a  right  to  expect, 
that  men  who  hate  the  gospel  should  keep  silence 
respecting  it.  The  spirit  of  malignity  in  such  a 
case  is  almost  sure  to  find  vent  through  the  lips  ; 
and  hence  infidel  arguments  are  framed,  and 
infidel  jests  circulated  ;  and  while  there  will  be 
5 


66  DANGER    FROM    LIVING   IN   A 

many  who  will  stand  ready  to  do  service  to  the 
cause  according  to  their  ability,  there  will  be 
some  who  will  be  regarded  as  oracles,  or  at  least 
as  the  expounders  of  oracles,  at  whose  feet  the 
multitude  will  sit  with  persevering,  and  fatal 
docility.  I  have  in  my  eye,  at  this  moment,  a 
neighbourhood  with  which  I  was  familiar  years 
ago,  where,  owing  to  some  peculiar  circumstances, 
a  large  part  of  the  population  had  come  under  a 
strangely  demoralizing  influence.  And  that  was 
a  soil  where  infidelity  grew  in  rank  luxuriance ; 
and  while  it  was  itself,  to  a  great  extent,  the 
occasion  of  the  prevailing  immorality,  it  repro- 
duced itself  continually,  not  only  by  the  direct 
inculcation  of  its  own  doctrines,  but  by  the  habits 
of  practical  irreligion  which  it  aimed  to  establish. 
Well  do  I  remember  that,  while  there  were  a  score 
of  people  who,  in  their  deep  ignorance,  could  jeer 
at  Christianity,  and  brand  it  as  a  cheat,  and  its 
votaries  as  knaves  or  fools,  there  were  some  two 
or  three  who  were  regarded  as  the  greater  lights 
of  infidelity,  and  one  in  particular,  who  greatly 
exceeded  the  rest,  if  not  in  the  fierceness  of  his 
malignity,  at  least  in  the  extent  of  his  knowledge. 
He  was  the  acknowledged  expounder  of  Hume 


CORRUPT   STATE    OF    SOCIETY.  67 

and  Gibbon,  of  Rousseau  and  Voltaire ;  and 
perhaps  his  favourite  author,  after  all,  was  Paine ; 
'or  nothing-  was  more  palatable  to  those  to  whom 
1e  discoursed,  than  the  vulgar  and  blasphemous 
jests  which  make  up  the  "  Age  of  Reason." 
The  house  of  this  man  was  the  resort  of  many  of 
his  neighbours,  especially  on  the  sabbath ;  and 
not  a  {ew  young  men  who  listened  to  his  horrible 
teachings,  became  as  thorough  going  infidels  as 
himself.  You  can  hardly  estimate  the  danger  of 
living  within  the  range  of  such  an  influence  as  this; 
and  yet  something  at  least  analogous  to  this  is 
almost  sure  to  be  found,  where  the  general  stand- 
ard of  morality  is  greatly  depressed. 

It  is,  moreover,  almost  a  thing  of  course  that, 
in  a  state  of  society  in  which  the  evil  influences 
to  which  I  have  already  adverted,  exist,  there 
should  be  the  additional  evil  of  bad  books — 
books  of  infidel  or  immoral  tendency.  For  as 
this  constitutes  one  of  the  most  efiicient  instru- 
mentalities for  corrupting  especially  the  youthful 
mind,  it  were  not  to  be  expected  that  those  who 
are  practised  in  this  species  of  mischief,  and  who 
glory  in  multiplying  their  followers  and  their 
victims,  should  overlook  so  important  an  auxiliary, 


68  DANGER   FROM   LIVJKG    IIV    A 

Hence  we  find  that  these  men  are  usually  on  the 
alert  for  putting  this  class  of  books  in  circulation  — 
books  adapted  to  every  variety  of  intelligence  and 
taste,  from  the  sophistry  of  Hume  down  to  the 
ribaldry  of  Paine.  Most  distinctly  do  I  recollect 
how  the  individual  to  whom  I  have  just  referred, 
as  bearing  such  sway  in  an  infidel  neighbourhood, 
used  to  avail  himself  of  every  book  of  evil 
tendency  within  his  reach,  in  carrying  forward 
his  work  of  corruption ;  and  he  would  even  put 
them  stealthily  into  the  hands  of  young  men,  and 
request  that  they  might  be  read  without  meeting 
the  eye  of  their  parents.  And  who  can  estimate 
the  amount  of  evil  which  a  bad  book  is  adapted 
to  produce  ?  Let  it  be  read  and  relished,  and  it 
will  be  almost  sure  to  be  read  more  than  once — 
read  till  it  has  impressed  itself  most  fully  on  the 
mind,  and  its  poison  has  difiused  itself  through 
the  whole  moral  system.  And  let  me  say,  those 
are  the  most  dangerous  books  in  which  false  and 
demoralizing  opinions  are  blended  with  high 
literary  attractions,  so  that  the  former  are,  in  a 
great  measure,  concealed  by  the  latter.  Many  a 
young  man,  in  reading  the  licentious  productions 
of  Byron,  has  supposed  himself  influenced  chiefly 


CORRUPT    STATE    OF    SOCIETY.  69 

by  admiration  of  his  exalted  genius;  but  the  event 
has  proved  that  the  book  has  pernianently  corrupted 
his  moral  sentiments,  and  perhaps  has  effected  his 
complete  ruin  for  both  worlds. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  class  in  whom  the  social 
principle  operates  more  strongly  than  in  young 
men.  Mark  it  in  whatever  community  you  will  — 
though  the  aged  and  the  middle  aged  may  be 
reconciled  to  a  state  of  comparative  seclusion,  and 
may  sometimes  even  seek  it  as  a  matter  of  prefer- 
ence, the  young  are  rarely  satisfied  unless  they  are 
mingling  in  some  kind  of  society.  Suppose  then 
that  the  society  into  which  a  young  man  is  thrown 
is  extensively  corrupt,  while  yet  he  is  himself  free 
from  vicious  habits,  and  under  the  general  influence 
of  a  good  education  —  the  social  principle  will 
naturally  lead  him  to  look  for  companions ;  and 
where  there  are  few,  if  any,  who  have  not  been 
corrupted,  how  much  danger  is  there  that  he  will 
form  intimacies  which  will  work  for  him  the  most 
lasting  evil.  He  may,  at  first,  be  shocked  by  their 
loose  principles  and  vicious  habits ;  and  he  may 
resolve,  from  time  to  time,  that  he  will  never  go 
beyond  a  certain  point  in  conforming  to  their 
wishes ;  but,  at  no  distant  period,  he  finds  himself 


70  DANGER   FROM,    ETC. 

completely  within  their  power,  and  perhaps  with 
scarcely  an  effort  at  resistance,  surrenders  himself 
to  a  course  which  must  soon  terminate  in  ruin. 

Need  I  say,  my  young  friends,  that  if  Provi- 
dence places  you  in  circumstances  such  as  I  have 
here  described  —  no  matter  whether  at  home 
or  abroad — you  will  have  reason  for  the  exercise 
of  unremitted  vigilance.  "Without  taking  heed 
to  your  way,  continually,  you  will  inevitably 
soon  become  the  prey  of  the  destroyer.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  you  are  preserved  from  the  temptations 
to  which  such  a  condition  exposes,  and  have  your 
lot  cast  chiefly  among  the  good  and  virtuous,  be 
thankful  to  that  Providence  which  thus  highly 
favours  you,  and  make  good  use  of  the  advantages 
which  it  offers  for  becoming  fitted  for  any  station 
which  you  may  hereafter  be  called  to  occupy. 


DANGEa   FROM,   ETC.  71 


LETTER  V. 

DANGER    FROM     BEING     SUDDENLY     CAST    INTO 
ADVERSITY. 

It  does  not  appear  that  Joseph,  previous  ,to  the 
sad  visit  that  he  made  to  his  brethren  at  Dothan, 
had  had  any  remarkable  experience  of  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  human  life.  He  had  indeed  lost  an 
excellent  mother — and  that  is  always  a  severe 
affliction  ;  but  he  was  too  young  at  the  time  to 
form  any  adequate  conception  of  the  loss;  and 
no  doubt  his  wants  had  all  been  promptly  met  by 
the  ever  vigilant  care  and  affection  of  his  father. 
But,  from  the  hour  that  he  parted  with  his  father, 
or  rather  from  the  hour  that  he  met  his  brethren, 
his  condition  underwent  a  strange  and  sad  reverse  ; 
misfortune  followed  in  the  track  of  misfortune, 
till  it  seemed  as  if  malignity  and  cruelty  had 
exhausted  themselves  in  the  effort  to  render  him 
unhappy.  How  different  was  the  meeting  which 
he  had  with  his  brethren  from  that  which  he  had 


72  DANGER    FROM    BEING    SUDDENLY 

anticipated !  Instead  of  being  received  by  them 
with  open  arms,  as  he  had  a  right  to  expect,  the 
first  view  which  they  caught  of  him  in  the  distance 
was  a  signal  for  concerting  a  plan  to  take  his  hfe. 
What  must  have  been  his  emotions  when  he  found 
that  the  spirit  of  murder  had  got  possession  of 
their  hearts,  and  that  the  majority  of  them  were 
actually  in  favour  of  shedding  his  blood  !  What 
a  moment  must  that  have  been  when  he  was  cast 
into  the  pit,  and  afterwards  when  he  was  sold  as 
a  slave,  and  was  carried  away  he  knew  not 
whither,  with  no  other  prospect  than  that  of 
perpetual  bondage  !  As  he  reverted  to  the 
quiet  and  peaceful  scenes  in  which  he  had  so 
lately  mingled  with  his  much  loved  father,  and 
then  reflected  on  the  treachery  and  cruelty  which 
had  been  exercised  towards  him  by  his  brethren ; 
as  he  thought  of  the  suspense  and  anguish  to 
which  his  father  must  be  subjected  in  consequence 
of  his  not  returning  to  him,  and  of  the  depri- 
vations and  sufferings  which,  in  all  probability, 
awaited  himself  as  a  slave,  we  cannot  doubt  that 
his  heart  must  have  been  pierced  by  the  keenest 
agony.  And  subsequently  to  this  period,  you 
remember  that  he  suffered  again  in  consequence  of 


CAST    INTO    ADVERSITY.  73 

the  false  and  cruel  representations  of  an  abandoned 
woman,  and  actually  lay  in  prison  until  God,  by 
a  special  providence,  interposed  for  his  rescue. 
Considering  the  severity  of  the  atHictions  to  which 
Joseph  was  subjected,  and  the  si'  klenness  of  his 
transition  from  prosperity  to  adversity,  you  cannot 
fail  to  perceive  that  he  was  placed  in  circumstances- 
of  great  jeopardy ;  and  it  must  have  been  no: 
ordinary  strength  of  virtue  that  could  have  enabled 
him  to  maintain  his  integrity  and  innocence. 

There  are  many  young  men,  whose  condition, 
in  its  general  features,  is  represented  by  this  story 
of  the  afflictions  of  Joseph ;  for  though  their 
trials  are  not  of  the  same  kind  with  his,  yet  they 
are  often  both  severe  and  unexpected.  For 
instance,  a  young  man,  at  an  early  period  of  his 
education,  loses  his  parents,  and  henceforward  is 
without  any  near  friend  to  whom  he  can  look 
either  lor  support  or  counsel.  Another,  who 
had  supposed  himself  an  heir  to  a  large  estate, 
suddenly  finds  out  that  he  is  pennyless.  Another 
has  commenced  business  with  flattering  prospacls,. 
and  has  no  doubt  of  being  able  to  earn  for  himself 
a  handsome  living,  when  some  accidental  oversight, 
or  some  unexpected  change  in  the  times,  sweeps 


74  DANGER.    FROM    BEING    SUDDENLY 

away  whatever  he  has  accumulated,  and  Jeavbs 
him,  with  a  burden  of  debt  resting  upon  him,  to 
begin  the  world  anew.  And  yet  another  is  disap- 
pointed in  respect  to  a  matrimonial  connection : 
some  attractive  female  has  gained  his  heart,  and 
has  perhaps  rashly,  perhaps  deceitfully,  promised 
him  her  hand;  and  it  may  be,  after  his  plans  for 
life  have  been  modified  with  reference  to  this 
engagement,  and  every  thing  has  been  made  ready 
for  the  joyful  consummation,  she  finds  out,  in  a 
moment  of  caprice,  that  he  is  not  the  man  that 
she  loves  best ;  and  away  she  flies  to  try  the 
strength  of  her  fascinations  upon  another.  You 
need  not  smile  at  my  putting  this  down  in  the 
list  of  a  young  man's  afflictions  ;  for,  though  it 
is  a  matter  about  which  some  will  laugh,  and 
almost  all  will  be  sparing  of  their  pity,  I  have  no 
doubt  you  will  think,  if  you  ever  happen  to  have 
the  experience,  that  it  deserves  not  only  a  place 
on  the  list,  but  a  place  much  nearer  the  head  of 
itj  than  you  had  ever  imagined. 

The  nature  of  the  danger  to  which  you  are 
exposed,  must  of  course  depend  on  the  kind  of 
affliction  which  you  are  called  to  sufTer.     But  a  sad 


CAST    INTO    ADVERSITY.  75 

reverse  of  any  kind,  especially  if  it  occur  suddenly, 
cannot  fail  greatly  to  jeopardize  your  character. 

There  is  da'nger,  if  you  are  the  subject  of  any 
great  and  unlooked  for  affliction,  that,  instead  of 
rousing  the  energies  of  your  nature,  and  invoking 
the  proflered  aids  of  divine  grace  to  sustain  you 
under  it,  you  will  yield  to  discouragement  and 
despondency,  and  thus  cheat  yourself  out  of  much 
enjoyment,  and  the  world  out  of  much  useful 
service.  If  your  earnings,  however  small,  are  all 
suddenly  swept  from  you,  you  are  in  danger  of 
saying  to  yourself  that  you  have  no  encouragement 
to  labour,  and  that  you  will  attempt  it  no  more,  as 
Avhatever  you  may  accumulate  will  be  sure,  in 
some  way  or  other,  to  escape  from  you.  If, 
instead  of  inheriting  a  large  estate,  as  you  had 
expected,  you  find  yourself  left  in  absolute  indi- 
gence—  here  again,  how  liable  will  you  be  to 
sink  into  an  irresolute  habit  of  feeling,  and  to 
make  up  your  mind  that  you  cannot  labour  for  a 
living,  even  though  your  living  should  come  from 
the  charity  of  the  world.  I  have  in  my  e3'e  at 
this  moment  a  young  man  who  has  been  suddenly 
plunged  into  deep  adversity,  not  by  his  own  fault, 
but   through    the    righteous    providence  of   God ; 


76  "dangee,  from  iJEiNG  suddenly 

and,  for  the  present,  he  refuses  to  be  comforted 
by  any  consideration  drawn  from  earth  or  Heaven  ; 
and)  Unless  the  state  of  his  hiind  shall  soon  undergo 
an  important  chai'ige,  I  greatly  fear  that  he  will 
become  the  subject  of  a  permanently  desponding 
and  nidrbid  habit,  which  may  affect  his  happiness 
and  usefulness  for  life. 

There  is  danger  also,  that  the  intoxicating  cup 
may  be  resorted  to  by  young  men,  as  the  remedy 
for  severe  trouble ;  especially  where  trouble 
is  intimately  connected  with  mortification  or 
remorse.  If  you  fancied  yourself  rich  and  find 
that  you  are  poor ;  if  you  had  fair  prospects  of 
succeeding  in  your  business,  and  had  expressed  a 
confident  persuasion  of  your  success,  and  are 
disappointed,  after  all ;  if  )^ou  had  made  your 
arrangements  for  becoming  the  head  of  a  family, 
and  those  arrangements  are  suddenly  defeated  by 
duplicity  or  caprice  ;  —  notwithstanding  there 
may  be  nothing  in  either  case  that  ought 
to  wound  your  conscience  or  your  character, 
yet  it  is  more  than  probable  you  will  be  stung 
with  a  sense  of  mortification.  And  how  shall 
the  effect  of  the  disappointment  be  neutralized, 
and  your  accustomed  spirit  and  resolution  restored 


CAST   INTO    ADVERSITY.  77 

to  you?  Many  a  young  man,  in  these  circum- 
stances, has  practically  answered  this  question,  by 
resorting  to  the  inebriating  cup ;  and  what,  at 
first,  was  taken  as  an  opiate  for  an  uneasy  and 
distressed  mind,  comes,  at  no  distant  period,  to 
be  used  to  satisfy  a  diseased  and  deadly  appetite. 
Better  a  thousand  times  that  trouble  should  crush 
you  into  the  dust — even  into  your  grave,  than 
that  it  should  originate  a  habit,  which,  unless  it  be 
eradicated,  must  inevitably  destroy  you,  not  only 
for  the  life  that  now  is,  but  for  that  which  is  to 
come. 

There  is  danger,  especially  where  the  affliction 
consists  in  some  sudden  reverse  in  pecuniary 
matters  —  in  being  plunged  in  a  moment  from  a 
state  of  supposed  prosperity  into  indigence  — 
there  is  danger  that  fraudulent  and  even  desperate 
means  will  be  resorted  to,  either  to  avert  the  evil 
as  it  appears  in  prospect,  or  to  repair  the  loss 
when  it  has  been  actually  incurred.  A  young 
man,  when  he  sees  a  cloud  gathering  that 
threatens  his  best  earthly  prospects,  has  the 
strongest  inducements  to  do  his  utmost  to  escape 
the  impending  storm ;  or,  when  he  finds  himself 
actually   suffering   the    worst    evils    that   he    had 


78  DAr.GER    FROM    BEING    SUDDENLY 

feared,  how  natural  that  he  should  nerve  himself 
for  some  great  efTort  to  regain  his  lost  posses- 
sions ;  and,  in  either  case,  how  strong  will  be  the 
temptation,  especially  to  an  ambitious  spirit,  even 
to  compromise  the  great  principles  of  rectitude, 
and  make  shipwreck  of  a  good  conscience,  if  the 
desired  end  may  thereby  be  gained.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  a  young  man  may  have  always 
maintained  an  uncorrupted  integrity,  and  never 
dreamed  that  he  was  capable  of  forfeiting  it 
under  any  circumstances,  up  to  the  time  that  such 
a  temptation  as  I  have  described  presented  itself; 
and  then  he  may  have  learned,  for  the  first  time, 
that  he  was  capable  of  being  a  knave.  His 
principles  of  honesty  were  strong  enough  for 
ordinary  circumstances ;  but  when  the  question 
that  presented  itself  to  him  involved  the  alterna- 
tive whether  he  should  submit  to  poverty  or  yield 
up  his  integrity,  —  he  may  have  perhaps  hesitated 
— he  may  have  done  it  anxiously  and  tremblingly, 
but  he  did  it — he  renounced  the  character  of  an 
honest  man. 

I  will  only  add  that  young  men,  in  common 
with  persons  of  every  age,  are  in  danger  of 
perverting  their  afflictions  to  cherish  a  complaining 


CAST   INTO    ADVERSITY.  79 

spirit  against  the  providence  of  God.  If  God 
sends  you  afilictions — no  matter  what  kind  they 
may  be  —  he  has  some  benevolent  purpose  in 
sending  them  ; — he  designs,  by  means  of  them,  to 
prepare  you  for  greater  usefulness,  and  ultimately 
for  greater  enjoyment.  "  It  is  good  for  a  man," 
says  Solomon.  "  that  he  bear  the  yoke  in  his 
youth ;"  and  wherever  afflictions,  in  the  morning 
of  life,  are  rightly  improved,  they  always  impart 
a  mellowness,  a  dignity,  an  elevation  to  the 
character,  which  you  look  for  in  vain,  where  no 
other  influence  has  been  exerted  than  that  of 
prosperity.  But  an  impatient  and  complaining 
spirit  will  not  only  eflectually  prevent  you  from 
realizing  these  beneficial  results,  but  will  render 
your  character  increasingly  unlovely  in  the  eyes 
of  both  God  and  man.  It  will  moreover  constitute 
the  worst  possible  preparation  for  other  scenes  of 
trial  which  may  await  you  in  subsequent  life,  and 
if  it  grows  into  a  habit,  will  oppose  a  formidable 
obstacle  to  ail  those  means  and  influences  which 
are  designed  to  prepare  you  for  a  better  world. 

That  you  may  escape  the  evils  which  I  have 
mentioned,  and  aU  oiher  evils  to  which  sudden 
affliction  may   expos^e   you,    let   me  urge  you   to 


• 


80  DANGER    FROM,    ETC. 

recognize  a  divine  providence  in  every  trouble 
that  comes  upon  you,  and  endeavour  to  cooperate 
with  God  for  the  accomplishment  of  its  legitimate 
purpose  in  purifying  and  elevating  your  character. 
Never  seek  to  avoid  an  affliction  by  any  means 
which  a  properly  enlightened  conscience  will  not 
justify;  and  never  be  satisfied,  if,  in  the  review 
of  an  affliction,  you  do  not  find  yourself  better 
fitted  for  future  duties  and  trials,  than  you  were 
before  you  endured  it. 


LETTER  VI. 


DANGER   FROM   BEING   ENTRUSTED    WITH   THE 
INTERESTS    OF    OTHERS. 

I  HAVE  directed  your  attention,  in  preceding 
letters,  to  the  condition  of  Joseph  deprived  of  his 
liberty,  and  subjected  to  foreign  caprice  and 
dictation.  But  I  come  now  to  present  him  before 
you  in  a  different  attitude.  Notwithstanding  he 
has  been  sold  as  a  slave,  he  is  not  destined   long 


DA^'G£R    FROM,    ETC.  81 

to  be  treated  as  a  slave.  His  winning  manners, 
his  obliging  disposition,  his  exemplary  fidelity, 
and  his  uncommon  tact,  all  combine  to  recommend 
him  to  some  station  above  that  of  a  common 
servant.  He  was  soon  appointed  by  his  master 
the  overseer  of  his  house  ;  and  as  his  master 
was  a  man  in  authority — the  captain  of  the 
king's  guard,  this  must  have  been  a  place  of 
no  inconsiderable  responsibility.  It  is  true  that 
he  lost  this  place  shortly  after,  by  the  cruel 
misrepresentations  of  Potiphar's  wife ;  but  as  he 
was  accused  falsely,  he  quickly  came  out  from 
under  the  cloud,  and  was  advanced  to  a  place  of 
much  more  importance  than  that  from  which  he 
had  been  ejected.  In  consequence  of  his  wise 
interpretation  of  Pharaoh's  dream,  which  was  of 
vital  importance  to  the  prosperity  of  the  country, 
Pharaoh  was  pleased  to  constitute  him  the  chief 
officer  in  the  land;  and,  accordingly,  after  having 
invested  him  with  the  appropriate  badges  of 
authority,  he  issued  his  mandate  to  all  his  people, 
to  treat  him  with  the  reverence  to  which  his 
character  and  office  entitled  him.  Joseph  had 
indeed,  by  this  time,  advanced  to  what  we  should 
now   consider    middle   age ;    but,  considering   the 


82  DANGER    FROM   BEING   ENTRUSTED 

greater  length  of  human  life  at  that  period,  he 
could  be  regarded,  even  at  the  time  when  he 
reached  his  greatest  elevation,  as  only  approaching 
his  meridian.  It  will  occur  to  you,  at  once,  that 
it  was  a  perilous  situation  in  which  he  was  now 
placed ;  and  that,  before  the  experiment  had 
resulted,  there  was  much  reason  to  fear  that  the 
quick  transition  from  being  a  slave  to  an  overseer, 
and  then  from  being  imprisoned  as  a  malefactor  to 
being  made  governour  of  the  whole  land,  would 
turn  out  to  be  not  only  disastrous  to  himself,  but 
adverse  to  the  interests  of  those  under  whom  he 
acted,  as  well  as  of  those  who  were  subjected  to 
his  control. 

But  Joseph  is  not  the  only  young  man,  who  is 
placed  in  circumstances  of  jeopardy,  from  being 
charged  with  the  interests  of  others.  The  most 
important  places,  especially  of  publick  responsi- 
bility, are  not  usually  occupied  by  young  men  ; 
and  yet  the  greater  portion  of  young  men  have 
some  other  concerns  than  their  own  to  manage; 
and  sometimes  they  are  charged  with  matters  that 
have  a  most  important  bearing  on  the  prosperity 
of  individuals,  and  even  of  the  publick.  A  young 
man    is    commissioned    to   go  abroad  to   transact 


WITH    THE    INTERESTS    OF    OTHERS.  bo 

business  of  great  moment  for  a  mercantile  house  ; 
and  he  may  have  it  in  his  power  greatly  to  pro- 
mote its  prosperity,  or  to  bring  upon  it  extreme 
embarrassment,  or  even  absolute  ruin.  Another 
is  employed  as  a  clerk  —  perhaps  a  head  clerk,  in 
some  great  mercantile  or  manufacturing  establish- 
ment :  his  employers  confide  to  him  all  their 
great  pecuniary  interests  —  he  has  a  hand  even 
wpon  the  very  sources  of  their  prosperity.  Another 
occupies  the  responsible  place  of  a  teacher  of 
youth,  and  thereby  has  committed  to  him,  in  a 
great  degree,  the  formation  of  the  character  of  hia 
pupils,  and  the  consequent  happiness  of  their 
parents,  and  the  well  being  of  society.  And  yet 
another  gains  some  responsible  appointment  under 
the  government  of  the  state  or  the  nation,  and 
possibly,  in  spite  of  his  youth,  may  sometimes 
have  the  ear  of  those  whose  influence  is  directly 
felt  to  the  extremities  of  the  land.  In  these  and 
various  other  situations  in  which  young  men  are 
placed,  though  there  are  great  opportunities  for 
usefulness,  there  are  also  some  great  temptations 
to  evil.  There  is  danger  not  only  that  the  interests 
committed  to  them  will  suffer,  but  also  that  they 
will  do  irreparable  injury  to  themselves.     Let  me 


84  BANGEg.    FROM    BEING    ENTRUSTED 

direct  your  attention  to  two  or  three  of  the  promi- 
nent sources  of  clanger. 

There  is  danger  from  neglect.  There  is  no 
post  of  duty  which  can  be  successfully  occupied 
by  an  individual  who  takes  little  or  no  interest  in 
it.  Its  duties  may  indeed  be  very  light,  and  it 
may  require  but  a  small  portion  of  one's  time  to 
discharge  them ;  but,  after  all,  if  there  is  no 
interest  felt  in  them,  light  as  they  are,  they  will 
be  almost  sure  either  to  be  entirely  neglected  or 
very  imperfectly  performed.  If  you  go  abroad 
on  a  mercantile  agency,  professedly  to  look  after 
the  interests  of  your  employer,  and  yet  do  not,  in 
some  measure,  make  his  interests  your  own,  it  is 
quite  as  likely  that  your  agency  will  embarrass,  as 
that  it  will  benefit  him.  Or,  if  you  are  a  clerk, 
and  look  upon  every  service  that  devolves  upon 
you,  as  a  burden  to  be  submitted  to,  rather  than 
as  a  duty  to  be  cheerfully  performed,  you  will 
probably  entirely  omit  many  things  which  you 
ought  to  do,  and  only  imperfectly  do  those  which 
you  attempt :  thus  the  accounts  of  the  establish- 
ment may  be  irregularly  kept,  opportunities  for 
advantageous  sales  may  be  needlessly  lost,  and 
Doth  the  reputation  and  prosperity  of  the  house 


WITH    THE    INTERESTS    OF    OTHERS.  85 

may  rapidly  decline.  Or,  if  you  are  a  teacher, 
and  think  of  nothing-  but  your  salary  or  your  ease, 
your  pupils,  instead  of  reaping  the  legitimate 
benefits  of  sound  and  wholesome  instruction,  will 
almost  of  course  contract  bad  habits  both  intellec- 
tual and  moral  ;  and  not  improbably  their  parents 
may  discover,  when  it  is  too  late  to  remedy  the 
evil,  that  their  children  have  been  only  acquiring 
an  education  for  an  unprofitable  and  wretched 
life.  Mere  neglect  in  a  teacher  of  youth,  without 
any  positive  intention  to  do  wrong,  may  occasion 
evils  which  no  subsequent  training  either  of  parents 
or  teachers,  will  be  able  to  cure.  And  so  also  in 
places  of  civil  trust — places,  it  may  be,  not 
greatly  elevated,  but  yet  connected  either  with 
the  state  or  national  government  —  an  indifferent 
habit  of  mind  —  a  mere  want  of  interest  in  the 
appropriate  duties  of  the  station,  may  bring  after 
it  consequences  of  the  most  serious  and  ruinous 
import. 

It  were  well  if  there  were  no  danger  in  the 
case  I  am  supposing,  except  from  neglect ;  but 
sad  experience  shows  that  here  also  are  tempta- 
tions to  dishonesty,  which,  alas !  with  melancholy 
frequency,  prove  too  powerful  to  be  resisted.     I 


86       DANGER  FROM  BEING  ENTRUSTED 

might  specify  cases  almoLU  without  number  in 
which  young  men  have  been  sent  out  by  their 
employers  to  gather  in  debts,  and  some  in  which 
they  have  been  employed  as  agents  for  benevolent 
institutions,  in  which  they  have  proved  recreant 
to  all  the  claims  of  honesty,  and  have  run  off, 
appropriating  to  themselves  the  whole  amount 
of  their  collections.  But  I  would  direct  your 
attention  here  more  particularly  to  the  case  of  a 
merchant's  clerk  —  cf  a  young  man  who  goes 
into  a  counting-house  Avith  a  view  to  acquire  a 
commercial  education.  It  is  quite  possible  that 
he  may  have  had  the  obligations  of  truth  and 
integrity  inculcated  upon  him  from  his  earliest 
years,  and  his  conduct  may  never  have  betrayed, 
even  to  the  most  scrutinizing  observer,  the  least 
delinquency  on  this  subject.  But  the  secret  of 
this  may  be,  that  he  has  never  yet  been  subjected 
to  any  great  temptation.  Perhaps  he  is  placed  in 
circumstances  in  which  vice  solicits  with  greater 
power  than  at  any  previous  period  of  his  life  ; 
and  first  he  is  brought  into  the  attitude  of  dallying 
with  the  tempter,  and  finally  he  determines  to 
yield.  But  the  class  of  vicious  indulgences  to 
which  he  is  tempted  are  expensive — al  the  close 


WITH   THE    INTERESTS    OF    OTHERS.  87 

of  a  midnight  revel  there  is  a  bill  to  be  paid  ;  and 
yet  his  parents  have  provided  him  with  money 
only  to  meet  his  necessary  expenses.  He  casts 
about  him  for  some  additional  means ;  and  it 
"occurs  to  him  that  there  is  plenty  of  money  in  the 
drawer  of  his  employer  ;  and  that  he  may  venture 
secretly  to  borrow  a  little  to  be  replaced  the 
moment  that  his  funds  are  a  little  replenished. 
He  borrows  again  and  again,  making  himself  easy 
in  the  reflection  that  he  fully  intends  to  pay. 
though  he  becomes  less  and  less  scrupulous  in 
regard  to  the  time  of  payment.  Meanwhile  he 
keeps  no  account  of  what  he  takes,  and  is  more 
than  willing  to  be  ignorant  of  the  extent  of  his 
obligation.  But,  at  no  very  distant  day,  he  gives 
up  the  idea  of  replacing  what  he  withdraws, 
and  agitates  in  his  mind  another  question — to 
what  extent  he  can  proceed  without  too  much 
danger  of  detection?  As  he  makes  progress  in 
vice,  especially  if  he  be  addicted  to  gaming,  his 
wants  proportionally  increase  ;  and  in  the  same 
proportion,  he  becomes  adventurous  in  his  frauds. 
By  some  unexpected  means,  he  is  at  length  found 
out :  if  he  gets  timely  warning,  perhaps  he 
escapes  the  hand  of  justice  ;  or,  perhaps  before  he 


0«  DANGER    FROJI    BEING    ENTRUSTED 

has  suspected  the  danger  of  apprehension,  the 
magistrate  has  shown  him  his  warrant  for  remov- 
ing him  from  the  counting-house  to  the  prison. 
And  this  may  be  the  beginning  of  an  exile  for 
many  years  from  all  society  except  that  of  felons 
—  from  all  privileges  except  those  which  can  be 
enjoyed  in  a  dungeon.  It  is  unnecessary  that  I 
should  point  to  particular  cases  to  illustrate  Avhat 
I  have  here  said ;  for  I  am  sure  your  own  recol- 
lection will  supply  you  with  some  in  which  you 
will  recognize  the  most  painful  features  to  which  I 
have  adverted. 

There  is  danger,  moreover,  in  certain  cases, 
that  there  will  be  an  abuse  of  authority  to  purposes 
of  excessive  lenity  on  the  one  hand,  or  of  down- 
right tyranny  on  the  other.  You  are  entrusted 
with  the  management  of  some  large  establishment, 
and  it  devolves  on  you  to  see  that  all  who  are 
below  you  are  actively  and  industriously  occu- 
pied, while  yet  they  are  not  tasked  beyond 
reasonable  bounds.  Now  you  may  do  great 
injustice  to  those  who  employ  you,  by  conniving 
at  the  indolence  or  carelessness  of  those  whom 
you  are  required  to  look  after;  or  you  may  be 
no   less   unjust   to   ihem   on   the   other   hand   by 


WITH    THE    INTERESTS    OF    OTHERS.  89 

exacting  of  them  a  greater  amount  of  labour  than 
they  can  reasonably  be  required  to  perform.  Or 
you  are  engaged  in  the  business  of  teaching  youth 
—  you  virtually  yield  up  your  authority  by 
leaving  them  to  take  their  own  way ;  or  else 
you  task  them  so  severely,  or  meet  them  with  so 
little  encouragement,  that  they  grow  weary  and 
disheartened,  and  avail  themselves  of  the  first 
opportunity  to  escape  from  your  control.  I  have 
known  children  of  at  least  an  ordinary  degree  of 
promise,  who,  by  reason  of  the  injudicious  treat- 
ment they  have  received  from  their  teachers, 
have  had  the  development  of  their  faculties  most 
unreasonably  checked,  and  have  borne  witness 
to  the  evil  which  they  have  suffered,  to  the  close 
of  life. 

You  cannot,  my  young  friends,  estimate  the 
importance  of  the  subject  of  this  letter  so  highly 
as  it  deserves.  I  pray  you  to  hold  it  to  your 
minds,  till  you  are  brought  fully  to  realize  your 
danger,  and  you  feel  that  you  have  the  strength 
requisite  to  meet  it  successfully.  Whether  the 
interests  with  which  you  are  charged  are  greater 
or  less,  guard  them  just  as  sacredly,  aim  to 
promote  them  just  as   carefully,  as  if  they  were 


90  DANGER.   FROM    COMING   INTO 

exclusively  your  own.  Nay,  hesitate  not  to 
submit  to  great  inconvenience,  rather  than  even 
appear  to  be  unfaithful  in  respect  to  any  trust 
that  has  been  committed  to  you.  Be  as  cautious 
as  you  will,  how  you  assume  responsibilities  ;  but 
when  assumed,  sooner  part  v/itli  your  right  arm, 
than  trifle  with  them.  Act  up  fully  to  all  your 
promises — to  all  that  can  reasonably  be  expected 
of  you.  And  remember  that  the  least  tendency 
that  you  discover  in  yourself  to  depart  from  this 
rule  points  with  ominous  foreboding — perhaps  to 
the  life  of  a  vagabond — perhaps  to  the  dungeon 
of  a  felon. 


LETTER  VII. 

DANGER    FROM    COMING   INTO    POSSESSION    OF    GREAT 
WEALTH. 

It  does  not  follow,  as  a  matter  of  course,  in  these 
days,  that  because  a  man  occupies  a  station  of 
great  influence  in  society,  he  should  have  great 


POSSESSION    OF    GREAT    WEALTH.  91 

worldly  possessions ;  for  nothing  is  more  common 
than  for  an  individual  to  hold  one  of  the  highest 
posts  of  civil  authority,  to  have  the  control,  to  a 
great  extent,  of  the  public  treasury,  and  to  have 
a  hand,  more  or  less  directly,  on  the  springs  of 
national  prosperity,  and  yet  to  have  little  or  no 
property  that  is,  strictly  speaking,  his  own.  But 
this  does  not  seem  to  have  been  the  case  wath 
Joseph.  The  constitution  of  society,  at  the  period 
in  which  he  livpd,  identified  his  exaltation  to  the 
office  of  governour  with  the  greatest  affluence  ; 
and  the  manner  in  which  he  provided  for  his 
father's  family,  shows  that  the  most  ample 
resources  were  at  his  command.  And  the  eleva- 
tion from  poverty  to  wealth  was  as  sudden  as  can 
well  be  imagined  ;  for  the  governour  was  made  out 
of  the  prisoner,  just  as  quickly  as  the  prison  dress 
could  be  taken  off  and  the  robes  of  office  put  on. 
But  a  few  years  before,  Joseph  was  a  poor  boy, 
with  only  the  comforts  and  the  prospects  of  a 
slave ;  and  though  his  prospects  had  at  one  time 
been  brighter,  yet  they  had  become  overcast  again, 
and  he  was  actually  imprisoned,  on  a  false  accu- 
sation, as  a  felon ;  but,  in  a  moment,  like  the 
sun   suddenly  emerging  from  a  dark  cloud,  he  is 


92  DANGER    FROM    COMING   INTO 

placed  in  a  situation  in  which  the  last  vestige  of 
poverty  retires  from  him,  and  the  treasures  of 
Egypt  are  all  put  at  his  disposal.  It  was  a 
situation  fraught  with  imminent  danger — danger 
not  only  from  the  authority  that  was  committed  to 
him,  but  from  the  wealth  which  Avas  its  necessary 
accompaniment. 

There  are  various  ways  in  which  it  happens 
to  many  young  men  of  the  present  day  to  be 
suddenly  elevated  to  great  affluence.  This  occurs 
frequently  through  the  ordinary  channel  of  inher- 
itance :  the  individual  finds  himself  rich,  because 
his  parents  were  rich  before  him,  and  as  they 
have  been  removed  by  death,  the  estate,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  falls  into  his  hands.  In  this 
case,  there  is  no  sudden  change  experienced ;  for 
the  young  man  had  always  been  surrounded  with 
elegances  and  luxuries,  and  had  always  known 
that  he  was  the  lawful  heir  to  the  estate,  whenever 
the  decease  of  his  parents  should  occur.  But  it 
sometimes  happens  that  a  large  fortune  is  be- 
queathed to  a  youth,  who  had  always  been  poor, 
by  some  individual  from  whom  he  had  no  right  to 
expect  any  legacy  at  all :  possibly  while  he  is 
hard  at  work   at  some  mechanical   trade,  which 


POSSESSION    OF    GREAT    WEALTH.  93 

furnishes  him  only  the  means  of  a  scanty  sub- 
sistence, his  eye  rests  on  a  paragraph  in  the 
newspaper,  announcing  that  some  one  —  perhaps 
on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean — has  mentioned 
his  name  in  his  will,  in  a  waj'-  that  elevates  him 
at  once  to  a  place  among  the  richest  men  in  the 
community.  And  there  are  other  cases  still  in 
which  young  men  suddenly  emerge  from  poverty 
to  wealth,  by  means  of  some  fortunate  speculation 
— possibly  by  the  drawing  of  a  prize  in  a  lottery, 
or  by  a  great  and  unlooked  for  rise  in  the  value  of 
the  little  property  which  they  have  acquired,  or 
by  some  other  circumstance  which  they  had  never 
contemplated  as  possible,  until  it  actually  occurred. 
Let  the  property  have  been  acquired  in  whatever 
manner  it  may,  I  will  endeavour  to  show  you  that 
the  mere  possession  of  it,  however  it  should  be 
regarded  as  a  blessinnf   to  be   borne    in   grateful 

o  o  o 

remembrance,  may  nevertheless  prove  a  snare 
from  which,  if  you  once  fall  into  it,  you  may  not 
easily  extricate  yourself 

What  then  are  some  of  the  dangers  to  which 
young  men  are  peculiarly  exposed  from  coming 
into  the  possession  of  extensive  riches? 

There  is  danger  that  they  will  form  a   habit  of 


94  DANGEIl    FROM    COMING    INTO 

indolence  —  indolence  as  it  respects  both  the  body 
and  the  mind.  I  have  adverted  to  this  subject 
already  in  what  1  have  said  respecting  excessive 
parental  indulgence ;  but  it  is  too  important  to  be 
entirely  passed  over  in  the  present  connexion. 
Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  the  mind  is 
constituted  with  such  tendencies,  as  to  require 
some  powerful  influence  from  without  to  keep  it 
active ;  and  there  is  no  influence  more  effective 
than  that  which  results  from  necessity;  and  no 
necessity  more  imperious  than  that  which  is  iden- 
tified with  the  means  of  our  present  subsistence. 
If  a  young  man  has  never  formed  the  habit  of 
applying  his  faculties  in  any  useful  way,  the  fact 
of  his  being  able  to  live  without  exertion,  will  in 
all  probability  prevent  his  ever  forming  such  a 
habit;  or  if  he  actually  does  form  it,  it  will  be  a 
wonderful  triumph  of  the  better  principles  of  his 
nature.  If,  on  the  contrary,  he  has  already 
become  an  active  young  man,  under  the  influence 
of  the  conviction  that  he  must  labour  for  his 
sustenance  —  though  it  may  be  more  easy  to 
continue  the  habit  of  activity  than  it  would  be  to 
form  it  anew,  —  yet  there  is  great  danger  that 
the    shock   occasioned    by  the    discovery  that  he 


POSSESSION    OF    GREAT    WEALTH.  95 

is  independent,  may  cause  a  general  listless- 
ness  to  come  over  him,  fatal  alike  to  his 
reputation  and  usefulness.  These  are  evils,  you 
will  observe,  not  essentially  incident  to  the  case 
of  which  I  am  treating;  —  for  if  they  were  so, 
your  duty,  not  less  than  your  interest,  would 
require  that  you  should  never,  in  any  circum- 
stances, consent  to  possess  a  large  estate  ;  whereas 
a  large  estate  rightly  used  is  certainh'^  a  great 
blessing  ; — but,  after  all,  they  are  evils  which  so 
frequently  occur,  that  you  cannot  guard  against 
them  with  too  scrupulous  vigilance.  Remember 
that  man  answers  the  end  of  his  existence,  just  in 
proportion  as  his  faculties  are  brought  into  action 
in  the  right  way ;  and  whatever  is  suffered  to 
operate  as  a  clog  to  their  exercise,  is  an  occa- 
sion of  evil  which  you  cannot  now  adequately 
estimate. 

The  spirit  to  which  I  have  here  referred,  once 
fully  imbibed,  is  a  fruitful  soil  of  evil  affections 
and  evil  habits  ;  for  it  is  a  rare  thing  that  you  see 
indolence,  whether  associated  with  wealth  or' 
poverty,  without  seeing  other  vices  of  a  more 
positive  character  clustering  around  it.  Intem- 
perance and  sensuality  particularly  are  very  likely 


96  DANGER   FKOM    COMING    INTO 

to  be  its  concomitants  ;  and  along  with  these  often 
come  scenes  of  turmoil  and  violence,  the  report  of 
which  brings  out  the  energies  of  the  law.  Young 
men,  who  have  great  estates,  often  feel  as  if  the 
law  is  not  made  for  such  as  themselves,  and  imagine 
that  their  wealth  will  secure  to  them  an  exemption 
from  its  penalty ;  but  they  soon  find  out  to  their 
cost  that  the  law  asks  no  other  question  concerning 
them,  than  whether  they  are  offenders  ;  and  that 
"  the  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together  "  before  the 
tribunal  of  their  country,  as  well  as  in  the  grave. 
There  is  a  tradition,  which  I  believe  is  quite 
authentic,  that  the  late  king  of  England,  when  he 
was  in  this  country,  soon  after  he  emerged  from 
boyhood,  fell  into  a  spree  in  the  city  of  New- 
York,  with  some  of  his  companions,  and  was 
arrested  by  the  civil  authority  and  shut  up  in  a 
guard-house.  He  was  a  king's  son,  and  destined 
to  be  a  king  himself,  and  his  inheritance,  so  far  as 
property  was  concerned,  was  to  be  that  of  a  royal 
prince; — and  doubtless  this  very  circumstance 
might  have  emboldened  him  to  the  riotous  act  for 
which  he  was  arrested ;  but  it  turned  out  that  he 
was  a  subject  of  law  in  common  with  the  most 
vulgar  offender. 


POSSESSION    OF    GKEAT   WEALTH.  97 

Where  these  greater  excesses  are  not  realized 
as  the  consequence  of  a  young  man's  being 
elevated  to  great  wealth,  there  are  often  other 
evils  which,  if  less  flagrant  in  their  bearing  on 
the  general  interests  of  society,  have  scarcely  a 
less  injurious  effect  on  the  individuals  themselves 
— I  refer  especially  to  the  spirit  of  ostentation 
and  luxury — to  every  thing  that  is  included  in 
the  pride  of  life.  How  common  is  it  for  young 
men,  to  whom  Providence  has  given  great  wealth, 
to  practise  the  greatest  extravagance  in  respect 
to  their  establishments — their  dwelling,  their 
furniture,  their  equipage,  their  general  mode  of 
living ;  imagining  that  this  is  not  only  the  way 
to  enjoy  life  best,  but  to  secure  for  themselves 
the  most  enviable  reputation !  But  the  common 
sense  of  the  world,  and  even  their  own  common 
sense,  if  they  would  bring  it  into  exercise,  is 
against  them.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  nothing 
in  all  this  that  meets  their  nobler  desires; — and 
more  than  that — familiarity  leads  to  satiety,  and 
satiety  produces  disgust.  A  small  proportion  of 
the  expense  which  they  actually  incur,  would 
procure  for  them  all  the  real  comforts  which 
they  enjoy ;  and  the  balance  is  much  worse  than 


98  DANGER    FROM    COMING   INTO 

thrown  away; — for  it  only  mingles  neutralizing, 
if  not  absolutely  bitter,  ingredients  in  their  cup. 
And  then  what  is  the  effect  upon  others  ?  A  few 
may  indeed  be  weak  enough  to  envy  such  a  person, 
and  his  condition  may  be  conformed  to  their 
very  ideal  of  human  happiness ;  but  those  whose 
opinion  is  of  any  value,  will  pity  him  as  a  poor, 
weak,  vain  young  man.  Even  if  he  actually 
possesses  some  estimable  qualities,  they  will  be 
thrown  not  a  little  into  the  shade,  by  being 
associated  with  this  miserable  passion  for  worldly 
splendour. 

But  it  is  possible  that  a  young  man  may  possesa 
great  wealth,  and  may  not  be  liable  to  the  impu- 
tation even  of  extravagance — he  may  do  nothing 
more  than  live  in  a  style  which  his  property 
justifies,  and  his  standing  in  society  requires ;  and 
yet,  after  all,  he  may  be  deeply  injured  by  his 
wealth  —  he  may  be,  in  the  worst  sense,  a  victim 
to  it.  For  he  may  be  proud  of  his  great  posses- 
sions, even  when  his  pride  does  not  take  the  form 
of  ostentation  —  especially  he  may  be  proud  of 
his  reputation  in  the  community  as  a  rich  man  — 
proud  of  the  respect  and  influence  which  his 
riches  procure  for  him  in  the  circle  in  which  he 


POSSESSION    OF    GREAT   WEALTH.  99 

moves.  He  may  accumulate  upon  himself  the 
guilt  of  turning  away  from  the  supplications  of 
the  needy,  or  of  refusing  to  aid  in  the  extension 
of  the  gospel,  when  the  most  abundant  means  for 
meetino-  these  demands  are  within  his  reach.     He 

O 

may  lose  sight  of  his  dependance  on  God,  and 
refuse  to  acknowledge  his  providence  in  his 
munificent  gifts,  and  settle  down,  to  all  intents 
and  purposes,  into  a  practical  atheist.  Indeed 
his  heart  may  become  as  hard  as  the  nether  mill 
stone,  and  the  prospect  of  an  aggravated  condem- 
nation may  open  before  him,  by  reason  of  the 
abuse  of  his  wealth  ;  while  many  a  young  man 
who  has  not  been  set  in  such  a  slippery  place,  is 
cultivating,  under  a  different  influence,  benevolent 
and  generous  dispositions,  and  is  sustained  by  the 
prospect  of  a  glorious  reward. 

As  an  antidote  to  the  dangers  which  I  have 
brought  to  your  consideration  in  this  letter,  let 
me  entreat  you  to  guard  against  the  illusive  glare 
of  wealth.  Remember  that  all  the  wealth  of  the 
world  could  never  render  you  happy; — for  this 
obvious  reason — that  your  Creator  designed  that 
you  should  find  your  highest  happiness  in  nobler 
objects.      Remember  that  you   hold  your  wealth 


100  DANGER   FROM,    ETC. 

as  stewards;  and  that,  however  you  may  forget 
your  character  in  this  respect,  another  day  will 
convince  you  of  its  reality.  Remember,  in  short, 
that  wealth  is  a  blessing  or  a  curse,  as  it  is  used 
for  good  or  perverted  to  evil.  Ponder  that  mo- 
mentous problem  which  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  all 
wise  and  all  gracious  Saviour — "  What  shall  it 
profit  a  man,  if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose 
his  own  soul  ?" 

I  here  conclude  what  1  had  designed  to  say  in 
respect  to  the  dangers  to  which  young  men  are 
exposed,  as  suggested  by  the  history  of  Joseph ; 
and,  in  my  next  letter,  shall  proceed  to  another 
branch  of  my  general  subject  —  viz.  the  various 
praiseworthy  qualities  Vv^hich  were  developed  in 
Joseph's  character,  and  which  are  worthy  not  only 
to  be  venerated  but  imitated,  by  every  young 
man. 


PART  II. 

CHARACTER  TO  WHICH  YOUNG  MEN 
SHOULD  ASPIRE. 


LETTER  VIII. 

INTEGRITY. 

I  HAVE  presented  Joseph  before  you  in  various 
circumstances  of  temptation,  and  have  shown  you 
that,  in  each  of  the  different  situations  in  which 
he  was  placed,  his  experience  was  not  unlike  that 
which  falls  to  the  lot  of  many  young  men  at  the 
present  day.  Having  considered  the  dangers  to 
which  he  was  exposed,  I  wish  now  to  direct  your 
attention  to  the  spirit  in  which  he  encountered 
them  :  in  other  words,  to  bring  before  you  the 
leading  features  of  his  character,  as  they  are 
developed  in  his  history. 


102  iNTEGurry. 

And  here,  before  I  proceed  to  notice  the 
particular  qualities  of  which  the  character  of 
Joseph  was  made  up,  it  is  proper  that  I  should 
premise  that  his  noble  and  virtuous  dispositions 
all  had  their  origin  in  true  religion.  We  have 
indeed  no  account  of  the  time  or  the  manner  in 
which  he  became  religious ;  but  it  is  reasonable 
to  infer  from  the  inspired  narrative,  either  that  he 
was  sanctified  from  his  birth,  or  that  divine  grace 
wrought  efTectually  on  his  heart  in  early  child- 
hood, through  the  influence  of  parental  fidelity. 
For,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
divinely  honoured  by  prophetic  dreams  while  he 
was  a  mere  child,  every  thing  that  is  recorded  of 
his  earlier  years,  evinces  the  clean  heart  and  the 
right  spirit ;  and  the  same  principle  which  marked 
his  first  developments  of  character,  waxed  stronger 
and  stronger,  till  his  character  was  matured  by 
manhood,  and  finally  sealed  by  death. 

It  may  possibly  occur  to  you  to  inquire  how  far 
the  religion  of  Joseph  was  the  same  with  that 
which  it  is  the  design  of  these  letters  to  urge  upon 
you — in  other  words,  how  far  the  patriarchal 
religion  was  identical  with  Christianity.  I  reply, 
thev  are  the  same  in  substance — the  onlv^  differ- 


INTEGRITY.  103 

ence  is,  that  the  one  is  a  less  complete,  the  other 
a  more  complete  development.  The  religion  of 
the  patriarchs  differs  essentially  from  the  religion 
of  nature  in  this — that,  while  the  latter  recognizes 
man  in  an  unfallen  state,  and  therefore  not  requiring 
the  interposition  of  a  Mediator,  the  former  regards 
him  as  a  sinner,  and  includes  the  great  principle  of 
salvation  by  grace.  This  principle  is  indeed  only 
dimly  shadowed  forth,  when  compared  with  the 
clearness  of  subsequent  dispensations ;  but  still  it 
is  there ;  and  it  is  justly  as  truly  the  distinguishing 
principle  of  the  patriarchal  as  of  the  Christian 
system.  And  there  is  the  same  substantial  identity 
in  respect  to  the  duties  which  the  two  systems 
inculcate.  They  both  differ  from  natural  religion 
in  that  they  require  duties  corresponding  to  the 
new  relations  into  which  men  are  brought  by  the 
mediatorial  economy ;  but  they  harmonize  with 
natural  religion  in  requiring  a  perfect  character ; 
and  they  differ  from  each  other  only  in  the  different 
degrees  of  responsibility,  consequent  on  the  differ- 
ent degrees  of  light,  which  they  respectively 
involve.  The  religion  which  made  Joseph  what 
he  was,  is,  to  all  practical  purposes,  the  same 
which   must  constitute   the   basis  of  every   truly 


104  INTEGEITT. 

virtuous  character  now ;  though  you  must  not  fail 
to  bear  in  mind  that  a  brighter  hght  than  Joseph 
ever  beheld,  shines  around  you;  and  that  "  unto 
whomsoever  much  is  given,  of  him  will  be  much 
required." 

Having  said  thus  much  in  regard  to  the  ruling 
principle  of  Joseph's  life  —  the  stock  on  which  his 
good  qualities  were  all  engrafted,  I  beg  now  to 
call  your  attention  to  those  qualities  somewhat  in 
detail ;  and  the  first  on  which  I  purpose  to  dwell 
is  that  which  is  indicated  by  the  title  of  this 
letter — integrity. 

Joseph's  sterling  integrity  came  out  in  all  the 
conduct  of  his  life.  It  was  manifest  in  the  manner 
in  which  he  discharged  all  his  personal  and  official 
duties  ;  but  was  never  more  strikingly  displayed 
on  any  occasion,  than  that  on  which  he  resisted 
the  wiles  of  a  base  woman,  at  the  expense  of 
being  shut  up  in  a  dungeon.  But  that  you  may 
form  a  suitable  estimate  of  the  importance  of  this 
virtue,  allow  me  to  dwell  a  little  upon  its  nature, 
and  the  elements  of  which  it  is  composed. 

Integrity  literally  signifies  soundness — as  used 
figuratively,  it  denotes  moral  rectitude.  And  yet 
this   definition,    in    its   application  to  man  in  his 


INTEGRITY.  105 

present  state,  requires  to  be  guarded  and  limited ; 
for  there  is  no  man  whose  actions,  intentions, 
feeUnfrs,  are  all  conformed  to  the  perfect  standard 
of  God's  law,  as  were  those  of  our  first  parents 
before  the  fall.  In  the  present  state  of  human 
nature,  every  man  who  has  not  been  the  subject 
of  a  spiritual  renovation,  is  under  the  controlling 
influence  of  a  corrupt  heart;  and  even  those  on 
whom  the  renovating  process  has  passed,  are  still, 
to  an  extent,  heirs  of  corruption  and  children  of 
disobedience.  Even  such  a  man  as  David  had 
constant  occasion  to  mourn  over  his  iniquities ; 
and  Paul,  eminent  as  he  was  for  his  devotedness 
to  Christ,  complained  of  a  law  in  his  members 
warring  against  the  law  of  his  mind,  and  bringing 
him  into  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin  and  death. 
Neither  David  nor  Paul  then  was  upright  in  the 
same  sense  that  Adam  was,  or  that  glorified  saints 
in  Heaven  now  are.  It  is  only  in  a  modified 
sense  that  this  word  can  be  considered  as 
describing  the  characters  of  even  the  best  men  on 
earth.  What  then  are  the  elements  of  Christiari 
integrity? 

It  has  its  beginning  in  a  correct  moral  d'.tcem. 
meat — in  th.it  state  of  the  mind  that   reiv'.crs  it 


106  .        IKTEGRITY. 

susceptible  of  clear  perceptions  of  right  and 
wrong.  No  doubt  it  is  much  easier,  in  most 
cases,  to  know  the  right  than  to  do  it ;  and  yet, 
such  is  the  influence  of  depravity  upon  our  whole 
moral  constitution,  that  we  are  exceedingly  prone 
to  err  even  in  our  moral  judgments.  There  is 
the  influence  of  selfishness,  of  prejudice,  of  pas- 
sion, of  example,  which  operates  to  bring  a  film 
over  the  eye  of  the  mind,  or  at  least  so  to  impair 
the  moral  vision  that  its  views  become  distorted 
and  false.  Hence  we  read  of  those  who  call  evil 
good,  and  good  evil ;  who  put  sweet  for  bitter 
and  bitter  for  sweet.  And  hence  we  find  the  great 
apostle  declaring  in  reference  to  himself  previous 
to  his  conversion, — "  I  verily  thought  v/ith  myself 
that  I  ought  to  do  many  things  contrary  to  the 
name  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth."  And  the  same 
thing,  substantially,  we  see  passing  in  the  Avorld 
every  day.  There  are  some  men  who,  by  a  long 
course  of  flagrant  vice,  seem  to  have  lost  all  moral 
discernment,  their  consciences  being  absolutely 
seared  ;  while  there  are  many  others  of  whose 
general  character  we  may  judge  favourably,  who 
yet,  through  some  unhallowed  influence,  become 
strangely  blinded  to  the   right  in  respect  to  some 


INTEGRITY.  107 

particular  subject,  and  perhaps  are  carried  far 
away  from  the  path  of  duty,  while  they  are  not 
conscious  of  having  forsaken  it  at  all.  But 
inasmuch  as  man  is  a  moral  agent,  he  is  respon- 
sible for  this  state  of  mind  by  which  he  is  misled: 
he  is  bound  to  resist  all  those  influences  by  which 
his  discernment  of  truth  and  duty  is  liable  to  be 
impaired.  And  it  is  only  in  proportion  as  a  man 
does  resist  these  influences  that  he  can  be  said  to 
be  upright.  It  can  never  be  an  apology  for  one's 
doing  wrong,  that  he  thinks  he  is  doing  right,  so 
long  as  God  has  constituted  him  with  the  power 
of  judging  correctly,  and  he  has  voluntarily 
sacrificed  this  high  prerogative  of  his  nature 
to  the  indulgence  of  depravity.  I  repeat  then, 
integrity  has  its  beginning  in  a  correct  moral 
discernment. 

This  however  is  only  its  beginning  ;  for  it 
implies  also  a  disposition  to  act  in  accordance 
With  right  views,  or  to  carry  out  correct  moral 
judgments  into  the  life.  It  is  no  uncommon  thing 
for  persons  to  fly  in  the  face  of  their  own  honest 
convictions  :  with  a  full  knowledge  of  what  is 
right,  urged  on  by  the  influence  of  some  evil 
propensity,    they    plunge    deeply,    irrecoverably, 


1 08  INTEGRITY. 

into  the  wrong.  And  then  again,  there  are  many 
more  who  are  convinced  where  the  path  of  duty 
lies,  and  who  externally  walk  in  that  path ;  and 
yet.  after  all,  it  is  a  constrained  obedience  which 
they  render — the  heart  is  not  in  it — it  is  merely 
a  tribute  to  conscience,  or  perhaps  to  publick 
opinion  ;  and  it  is  only  for  the  want  of  courage 
that  they  are  not  seen  walking  in  the  way  of  the 
ungodly,  and  sitting  in  the  scoffer's  seat.  The 
latter  of  these  classes  may  indeed  have  more 
of  the  appearance  of  integrity  than  the  former; 
but  they  have  not  a  particle  more  of  the  genuine 
quality.  The  truly  upright  man,  while  he  sin- 
cerely desires  to  know  what  his  duty  is,  as  sin- 
cerely desires  to  do  it.  And  in  the  performance  of 
the  external  act,  he  is  governed  not  merely  by 
a  regard  to  his  own  conscience,  but  by  a  respect 
to  God's  authority — by  a  cordial  approbation  and 
love  of  moral  rectitude.  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou 
have  me  to  do  ? "  is  a  prayer  that  is  often 
breathed  forth  from  his  heart  and  his  lips ;  and  he 
walks  habitually  in  the  light  that  shines  upon  his 
path,  in  answer  to  this  prayer. 

You  will  perceive,  from  these  remarks,  that  the 
scripture  meaning  of  the  word  integrity  is  far  more 


INTEGRITY.        '  109 

comprehensive  than  the  meaning  which  common 
use  gives  to  it.  We  are  accustomed  to  speak  of 
a  man  as  possessing  integrity  of  character,  if  he  is 
honest  in  his  dealings  with  his  fellow  men  ;  if  he 
is  above  all  unfair  and  disingenuous  dealing,  and 
moves  forward  continually  in  a  plain  and  open 
path.  And  this  certainly  is  an  admirable  trait;, 
and  though  it  does  not  necessarily  involve  a  prin- 
ciple of  true  religion  in  the  heart,  it  marks  one  of 
the  noblest  forms  of  human  character  that  can 
exist  without  that  principle.  But  integrity,  in 
the  large  and  scriptural  sense,  is  quite  a  different 
thing :  it  implies  a  sincere  desire  and  constant 
aim  to  do  our  whole  dutj?-; — our  duty  to  God  as 
Avell  as  to  man; — our  duty  in  every  relation  we 
sustain  —  in  every  condition  in  which  we  are 
placed. 

Let  me  urge  you  then,  my  young  friends,  while 
you  cultivate  this  general  integrity  of  character 
founded  in  Christian  principle,  to  see  to  it  that  it 
give.s  a  complexion  to  all  the  particular  actions 
of  your  life.  I  refer  here  more  especially  to  the 
discharge  of  your  social  duties — to  the  relations- 
into  which  you  are  brought  with  your  fellow 
men  in  your  ordinary  pursuits ;  and  I  beg  you  to 


no  INTEGRITY. 

remember  that  no  integrity  is  genuine  that  is  not 
universal  and  particular,  and  especially  that  does 
not  discover  itself  in  the  details  of  worldly 
business. 

You  are  destined  to  be  a  mechanic — to  gain 
your  living  by  selling  the  product  of  your  own 
labour.  And  this  is  an  honourable  vocation, 
provided  only  it  be  pursued  with  integrity.  But 
see  to  it  that  integrity  regulates  the  price  of  every 
article  that  you  make.  Never  even  seem  to  take 
advantage  of  the  necessities  of  your  customers — 
to  extort  from  them  an  unreasonable  price  for  an 
article,  because  you  know  they  must  have  it, 
and  that  you  alone  can  supply  them.  And  if 
you  engage  to  do  a  piece  of  work,  be  sure  that 
the  quality  of  it  comes  up,  in  every  respect,  to  the 
spirit  of  your  engagement — that  there  be  no  just 
ground  for  complaint,  either  in  respect  to  the 
material  of  which  it  is  made,  or  the  labour  that 
is  bestowed  upon  it.  And  when  you  promise,  see 
that  your  promise  is  fulfilled  to  the  very  letter. 
If  you  promise  with  a  view  to  accommodate  your 
customers,  and  then  fail  to  fulfil  for  the  sake  of 
accommodating  yourself,  you  will  be  obliged  at 
ieast  to  practise  some    self-deception,  in  order  to 


INTEGRITY.  1 1 1 

take  the  comfort  of  thinking  that  you  are  a  person 
of  integrity. 

Or  you  are  training  up  to  be  a  tradesman — to 
spend  your  days  in  buying  and  selling  goods. 
And  here  again,  you  are  in  good  business  enough, 
if  you  hold  fast  a  good  conscience.  Suppose 
you  have  made  a  bad  bargain  for  yourself,  and 
have  been  deceived  in  some  extensive  purchase, 
and  have  paid  double  the  sum  which  the  goods 
were  really  worth — what  course  does  integrity 
require — what  course  does  it  permit  you  to  take? 
Are  you  at  liberty  to  endeavour  to  get  back  your 
money  at  all  events, — even  though  you  have 
to  practise  the  same  deception  upon  others  that 
has  actually  been  practised  upon  you?  By  no 
means — mt  even  if  the  alternative  is,  that  you 
must  be  reduced  to  absolute  poverty.  But  sup- 
pose your  neighbours  around  you  are  given  to 
the  practice  of  misrepresenting  their  goods,  and 
over-reacliing  their  customers,  as  often  as  they 
have  opportunity ;  and  it  seems  to  you  that  your 
only  chance  of  making  your  way  among  them,  is, 
occasionally  at  least,  to  stoop  to  the  same  thing  — 
rather  than  do  it,  even  in  a  single  instance,  shut 
up  your  store,  and  if  need  be,  turn  hewer  of  wood 


1 12  INTEGRITT. 

or  drawer  of  water.  If  you  are  inquired  of  in 
respect  to  the  state  of  the  market,  let  your  reply 
be  an  honest  one,  however  it  may  affect  your 
own  interest.  Think  not  to  retain  a  customer 
at  the  expense  even  of  the  semblance  of  mis- 
representation. Choose  rather  that  a  man  should 
leave  your  store  with  the  impression  that  you 
are  a  strictly  honest  merchant,  though  he  may 
not  have  traded  with  you  the  value  of  a 
penny,  than  that  he  should  leave  behind  him 
his  thousands  and  go  aw  y  doubting  your 
integrity. 

Or  you  are  looking  forward  to  the  profession  of 
medicine  —  it  may  not  have  occurred  to  you  that 
here  is  any  field  for  the  practice  of  dishonesty ; 
and  yet,  in  truth,  there  is  scarcely  any  vocation  in 
life  that  opens  a  wider  one.  You  may  set  at 
defiance  the  dictates  of  integrity  in  the  charges 
which  you  make  for  your  services  :  and  you  may 
encourage  yourself  in  exorbitant  demands  by  the 
reflection  that  a  physician's  bill  is  one  of  the  last 
that  most  people  like  to  dispute.  In  opposition 
to  this,  you  are  to  regulate  your  charges  by  a 
strict  sense  of  justice,  to  say  nothing  of  charity 
in  extraordinary  cases — you    are  not  to  estimate 


INTEGRITY.  1  13 

your  services  more  highly  than  well  judging  and 
impartial  persons  around  you  would  estimate  them. 
But,  if  you  may  not  be  dishonest  in  your  charges, 
neither  may  you  be  dishonest  in  your  practice. 
I  do  not  mean  that  a  physician  is  bound  always 
instantly  to  reveal  every  apprehension  he  may 
have  in  respect  to  the  character  or  the  issue  of  a 
disease,  either  to  the  patient  or  the  patient's 
friends — this  no  doubt  would,  in  many  cases  at 
least,  be  an  injudicious — possibly  a  fatal  course. 
But  I  do  protest,  in  the  name  of  all  integrity, 
against  that  faithless  dealing  on  the  part  of 
physicians,  which  aims  to  conceal  danger  to  the 
last, — which  actually  equivocates  and*  even  lies 
to  accomplish  it, — which  leaves  the  poor  patient 
to  find  out  his  real  situation  first,  when  he  is  in 
the  act  of  dying,  —  and  which  overwhelms  his 
friends  with  an  agony  rendered  doubly  bitter  by 
the  fact  that  they  have  had  no  opportunity  to 
prepare  for  it.  I  counsel  you  to  be  prudent  in 
these  delicate  and  difficult  circumstances;  but 
never  utter  a  word  that  shall  violate  your  sober 
convictions.  I  could  give  you  many  reasons  for 
this ;  but  it  is  enough  to  say  that  there  are  no 
8 


114  INTEGKITY. 

possible  circumstances  that  can  absolve  you  from 
the  obligation  of  keeping  a  good  conscience. 

Perhaps  you  have  in  view  the  legal  profession  — 
a  glorious  profession  it  is  ;  and  yet  how  miserably 
prostituted  by  the  petty  arts  of  quibbling  and 
misrepresentation.  But  even  here,  it  is  quite 
possible  to  be  an  honest  man  —  yea,  an  eminent 
example  of  integrity;  and  such  you  must  be,  if 
you  will  be,  in  the  best  sense,  an  ornament  to  the 
profession.  Never  voluntarily  enlist  in  a  cause 
which  you  are  satisfied  is  wrong  and  ought  not  to 
prevail ;  unless  indeed  you  may  be  legally  and 
officially  designated  for  the  defence  of  some 
unhappy  creature,  who  has  forfeited  perhaps  even 
his  life  into  the  hands  of  publick  justice,  but 
who  nevertheless  is  entitled  to  a  trial  by  the  laws 
of  his  country.  Never  encourage  men  to  go  to 
law,  merely  from  the  expectation  that  you  shall  be 
able  to  make  money  out  of  the  case ;  and  fail  not 
to  do  what  you  can  to  terminate  a  litigation  at  the 
earliest  moment  possible.  In  your  management  of 
every  cause,  show  yourself  frank  and  manly,  and 
never  take  undue  advantage  of  your  adversary.  I 
remember  to  have  heard  of  a  Rhode  Island  lawyer, 
who  had  advanced  some  false  principles  as  points 


INTEGRITY.  115 

of  law  ;  and  when  his  antagonist,  on  retiring  from 
the  court  room,  expressed  his  surprise  that  he 
should  have  made  such  declarations,  knowing  them, 
as  he  did,  to  be  false  —  he  facetiously  replied, 
"  Oh  I  said  it  as  a  lawyer  and  not  as  a  man." 
"  But,"  rejoined  his  antagonist,  "when  the  devil 
comes  after  the  lawyer,  what  will  become  of  the 
man?" 

Some  of  you  —  and  this  is  the  last  supposition 
I  will  make — may  become  professional  politi- 
cians ;  or  even,  if  this  should  not  be  the  case, 
you  may  have — doubtless  will  have  —  more  or 
less  to  do  with  political  life.  I  am  aware  that  it 
has  come  to  pass,  at  this  day,  that  to  speak  of  an 
honest  politician  is  regarded  as  well  nigh  a  solecism. 
But  thia  should  not  be  so.  Washington  and  Jay 
and  Rush  were  politicians — they  had  a  hand 
directly  on  the  great  political  interests  of  the 
country,  during  some  of  the  most  critical  periods 
of  its  history.  And  yet  the  country  has  never 
seen  men  of  more  stern  and  incorruptible  integrity 
than  they.  Let  such  men  as  these  be  your 
models ;  and  when  you  reach  the  point  where 
you  can  no  longer  remain  in  political  life,  and 
exemplify  the  character   which  adorned  them  in 


116  INTEGRITY. 

respect  to  integrity,  let  that  be  the  point  that 
shall  mark  your  withdrawal  into  some  other 
sphere  of  publick  or  private  usefulness.  Rely  on 
it,  your  country  will  never  need  your  services  as 
a  politician  a  single  day  after  you  have  yielded 
up  a  good  conscience.  Resolve  then  that  you 
will  never  be  the  tool  or  the  slave  of  any  party 
—  that  you  will  never  appear  to  endorse  measures 
which  you  conscientiously  disapprove  —  that  you 
will  stand  up  for  the  right,  even  in  the  hottest 
political  contest,  though,  in  doing  so,  you  should 
stand  absolutely  alone.  To  deserve  the  name  of 
an  honest  politician  at  this  day,  is  to  possess  a 
degree  of  conscientiousness  and  firmness,  which 
must  render  one  proof  against  the  strongest 
temptations,  and  render  one  safe  in  the  lion's  den 
or  in  Nebuchadnez7«ir's  furnace. 


DILIGENCE.  1  1 7 


LETTER  IX. 


DILIGENCE. 


You  cannot,  I  think,  have  failed  to  be  struck 
with  the  fact  that  every  part  of  Joseph's  history 
shows  him  to  have  been  a  man  of  most  active 
habits.  The  places  which  he  successively  occu- 
pied both  under  Potiphar  and  Pharaoh,  were 
places  of  great  responsibility ;  and  each  involved 
duties  which  never  could  have  been  performed  by 
one,  whose  faculties  were  not  trained  to  vigorous 
exercise.  It  was  while  he  was  diligently  engaged 
in  the  duties  of  his  vocation,  that  the  temptation 
was  presented  to  him,  which,  on  account  of  the 
resistance  which  he  opposed  to  it,  cost  him  a 
temporary  imprisonment ;  and,  even  Avhile  he 
was  in  prison,  he  had  an  important  trust  com- 
mitted to  him,  which  must  have  furnished  him 
with  incessant  occupation. 

I  design  to  present  Joseph  before  you   in  this 
letter,  chiefly  as  a  model  of  diligence  ;  but  I  shall 


118  DILIGENCE. 

consider  the  subject  in  its  largest  sense,  and  may 
connect  with  it  some  other  things  which,  however 
legitimately  drawn  from  the  history,  may,  perhaps 
with  equal  propriety,  be  referred  to  some  other 
general  attribute  of  character. 

The  first  thing  that  here  deserves  your  consid- 
eration, is  the  selection  of  a  suitable  field  on  which 
your  diligence  is  to  be  displayed ;  for,  if  you 
mistake  here,  you  put  at  hazard  both  your 
comfort  and  usefulness  for  life.  I  am  well  aware 
that  parents  should  have  something  to  say  on 
this  subject ;  and  if  I  were  addressing  them,  i 
should  venture  to  suggest  to  them  some  counsels 
and  cautions  in  relation  to  it ;  but  if  parents  are 
discreet,  they  will  be  guided  in  the  part  which 
they  take  by  the  same  considerations  which  ought 
to  influence  you.  I  would  say  that,  in  selecting 
your  vocation  for  life,  (for  I  here  take  for  granted 
that  you  are  to  have  some  fixed  employment)  you 
should  have  respect,  first  of  all,  to  your  own 
particular  capabilities.  I  say  particular  capabili- 
ties, for  though  all  men  are  constituted  with  the 
same  general  faculties,  yet  all  do  not  possess  them 
in  equal  degrees  of  strength ;  nor  are  the  same 
particular  faculties  always  predominant  in  different 


DILIGENCE.  1  19 

individuals.  Hence  it  frequently  happens  that, 
while  an  individual  is  admirably  fitted  for  one 
kind  of  business,  he  has  scarcely  any  talent  for 
another — of  course  his  usefulness  must  depend, 
in  a  great  measure,  on  his  selecting  the  employ- 
ment to  which  he  is  adapted.  You  must  also 
have  respect,  in  no  small  degree,  to  your  own 
taste ;  for  it  rarely  happens  that  a  young  man 
succeeds  in  any  occupation  to  which  he  is  consti- 
tutionally averse  ;  though  you  must  not  let  this 
principle  carry  you  so  far,  as  to  furnish  an  apology 
for  engaging  in  any  employment  that  is  not  useful 
md  praiseworthy.  And  finally,  you  must  have 
no  small  regard  to  the  circumstances  in  which 
Providence  places  you  ;  for  that  in  which  it  might 
be  clearly  your  duty  to  engage,  in  one  set  of 
circumstances,  it  might  be  your  imperative  duty 
to  decline,  in  another.  For  instance,  I  have 
known  young  men  whose  predilections  would 
have  led  them  to  missionary  life,  who  have  never- 
theless been  deterred  from  devoting  themselves  to 
it,  by  the  consideration  that  they  had  aged  parents 
who  were  entirely  dependant  upon  them,  and  who 
would  be  likely  to  suffer  if  they  were  to  leave 
them  for   a  distant   country.     And   I  have  con- 


120  DILIGENCE. 

sidered  their  decision  as  honourable  alike  to  their 
good  judgment  and  their  filial  affection.  It 
happened  in  respect  to  Joseph,  that  the  several 
considerations  which  I  have  mentioned,  were 
evidently  united  in  determining  his  sphere  of 
action.  The  admirable  manner  in  which  he 
acquitted  himself  in  the  different  stations  which 
he  occupied,  showed  that  he  possessed  the  requi- 
site talents  for  the  duties  that  devolved  upon 
him ;  and  though  he  never  betrayed  the  least 
ambition  for  high  places,  and  only  accepted  of 
them  when  they  were  offered  to  him,  or  rather 
when  he  was  appointed  to  them  by  superior 
authority,  it  is  evident  from  the  graceful  manner 
in  which  he  always  filled  them,  that  he  had,  to 
say  the  least,  no  constitutional  aversion  to  the 
class  of  duties  which  they  imposed  upon  him. 
And  as  to  the  indications  of  Providence  arising 
from  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed  — 
nothing  could  be  more  decisive :  Potiphar  made 
him  overseer  of  his  house,  when  he  was  a  poor 
slave ;  and  Pharaoh  made  him  governour  of  the 
land,  when  he  was  shut  up  in  prison  ;  and  surely 
no  one  could  doubt,  in  either  case,  whether  it 
were  not  better  to  accept  a  station  of  dignity  and 


DILIGENCE.  121 

usefulness,  than  to  remain  in  a  state  of  bondage 
or  of  imprisonment.  It  does  not  appear  that  he 
had  ever  any  occasion  even  to  hesitate  in  regard 
to  what  sphere  of  usefulness  he  should  occupj''; 
and  even  if  such  occasion  had  existed,  he  had  no 
parents  or  relatives  near  him,  to  consult.  But  it 
will  be  well  for  you^  to  take  the  advice  of  those 
who  are  best  qualified  to  give  it,  both  in  respect 
to  your  natural  capabilities  and  the  circumstances 
in  which  you  are  placed.  And  let  me  say  that  it 
is  a  matter  of  no  small  moment  that  your  first 
decision  on  this  subject  be  your  ultimate  one ; 
for,  though  there  are  cases  in  Avhich  a  young  man 
who  is  educated  for  one  profession  succeeds  well 
in  another,  yet  it  much  more  frequently  happens 
that  the  habits  of  thought  and  action  which  have 
been  contracted  with  reference  to  one  sphere  of 
life,  are  found  materially  to  interfere  with  success 
in  a  different  one.  I  would,  by  no  means,  say 
thai  such  a  change  may  not  sometimes  be  made 
to  advantage  ;  but  it  is  often  the  bartering  away  of 
eminence  for  mediocrity ;  and  no  young  man,  in 
fixing  on  a  profession,  should  allow  the  possibility 
of  making  such  a  change  to  enter  into  his  calcu- 
lations.    He  may  indeed  remain,  for  some  time, 


122  DILIGENCE, 

undecided  ;  and  so  he  ought  to  remain  till  he  can 
reach  an  intelligent  and  satisfactory  conclusion  ; 
but  when  he  has  once  formed  his  purpose,  unless 
he  may  subsequently  have  some  very  special 
reasons  for  a  change,  let  it  be  like  the  laws  of  the 
Medes  and  Persians. 

If  you  have  advanced  far  enough  in  life  to  be 
able  to  understand  these  letters,  (and  if  you  have 
not,  you  belong  not  to  the  class  for  which  they 
are  designed,)  you  have,  or  ought  to  have,  a 
regular  routine  of  daily  duties;  —  for  even  though 
you  may  not  have  determined  what  is  to  be  your 
occupation  for  life,  yet  you  are,  or  should  be,  in 
the  course  of  your  education  for  some  permanent 
occupation  or  other.  Whether  you  are  at  school, 
or  at  college,  or  in  a  mercantile  house,  or  in  a 
lawyer's  office,  or  have  actually  begun  the  world 
for  yourself,. you  are  to  be  occupied  chiefly  with 
the  particular  employment  to  which  you  profess 
to  be  devoted.  You  must  not  suffer  yourself  to 
be  needlessly  called  off  from  your  appropriate 
duties — especially  you  must  not  allow  the  intru- 
sion of  indolent  and  unprofitable  acquaintances; 
or,  if  they  come  once,  you  must  let  them  know  by 
your  manner,  if  not  by  your  words,  that  your  maxim 


DILIGENCE.  123 

IS  "  Duty  before  pleasure."  Even  if  you  are 
sometimes  placed  in  circumstances  in  which  the 
difficulty  of  your  daily  task  is  greatly  increaised, 
still  endeavour,  if  possible,  to  perform  it ;  for, 
while  you  can  never  know  but  that  the  failure,  in 
a  single  instance,  may  be  the  commencement  of  a 
general  habit  of  neglect,  you  may  rest  assured  that 
the  triumph  which  persevering  fidelity  in  these 
circumstances  ensures  to  you,  will  be  worth  more 
than  you  can  imagine,  to  your  stability  and  dignity 
and  self  respect. 

Be  not  satisfied  with  going  through  the  form  of 
the  various  duties  that  devolve  upon  you  ;  but  be 
careful  that  every  thing  that  you  attempt  is  done 
in  the  best  possible  manner.  Some  persons  who 
do  not  wholly  forget  their  duties,  and  are  not 
disposed  to  pass  them  by  Avithout  some  attention, 
perform  them  in  such  a  careless  and  slovenly 
manner  that  they  might  nearly  as  well  have 
neglected  them  altogether.  Let  it  be  a  principle 
with  you  from  which  nothing  shall  lead  j^ou  to 
depart,  that  you  will  leave  nothing  that  you 
undertake  till  it  is  thoroughly  accomplished.  If 
you  are  a  student,  never  lay  aside  your  book,  till 
you   fully   comprehend    your    lesson  :    whatever 


124  DILIGENCE. 

mysteries  there  may  be  before  you  in  the  book 
that  you  are  studying,  let  there  be  none  in  the 
portion  of  it  that  you  have  passed  over.  If  you 
are  a  mechanic,  or  a  merchant,  or  a  lawyer,  or  a 
physician,  or  any  thing  else,  rest  not  till  you  have 
done  the  very  best  that  you  are  capable  of  doing 
in  the  station  which  you  occupy.  If  you  early 
form  the  habit  of  doing  every  thing  well,  the 
consequence  will  be  that  you  will  soon  do  every 
thing  with  pleasure  to  yourself,  and  with  satisfac- 
tion to  others. 

But  while  the  general  course  of  your  efforts  is 
indicated  by  the  nature  of  the  employment  to 
vi'hich  you  devote  yourself, — in  other  words, 
while  it  is  to  be  expected  that  you  labour  chiefly 
in  some  one  particular  direction,  you  are  to  beware 
that  you  do  not  neglect  other  collateral  duties  of 
equal  or  even  greater  importance.  If  there  is 
danger  that  you  may  not  engage  with  sufficient 
earnestness  in  the  duties  of  your  worldly  vocation, 
there  is  danger,  on  the  other  hand,  that  you  may 
be  so  intensely  occupied  by  them,  that  they  will 
lead  you  to  forget  that  you  have  any  thing  else  to 
do  in  the  world  than  make  money,  or  hunt  after 
'ame.     You  have  various  duties  to  perform  towards 


DILIGENCE,  125 

your  fellow  men  from  which  nothing  can  absolve 
you — duties  to  your  family,  your  friends,  the 
community  in  which  you  live.  You  have  also 
duties  that  you  owe  more  immediately  to  yourself 
and  to  God — such  as  reading  the  scriptures,  de- 
vout meditation,  private  devotion,  every  thing 
that  enters  into  the  cultivation  of  personal  piety. 
You  must  never  pursue  any  worldly  vocation  so 
eagerly  that  you  shall  not  give  yourself  time  to 
fulfil  all  these  various  classes  of  duties  with  rigid 
fidelity.  That  kind  of  diligence  which  looks  with 
a  cold  eye  on  our  obligations  to  God,  and  which 
exhausts  itself  in  efforts  to  gain  the  world  —  no 
matter  in  what  form  —  poisons  the  comfort,  mars 
the  character,  ruins  the  soul. 

You  will  not  understand  me  as  intimating  any 
disapprobation  of  the  occasional  mingling  of  young 
men  in  the  lighter  scenes  of  life.  It  is  quite 
necessary  to  their  highest  usefulness  that  they 
should  sometimes  relax  from  severer  duties,  and 
nothing  is  more  fitting  for  them  than  the  inter- 
change of  kind  feelings  with  each  other  and  with 
their  friends.  This,  while  it  constitutes  the 
appropriate  culture  of  their  social  nature,  and 
thus  subserves  some  of  the  great  ends  of  human 


126  DILIGENCE. 

existence,  is  adapted  to  answer  the  purpose  of  all 
requisite  cessation  from  labour,  and  to  brighten  up 
the  faculties  for  the  graver  pursuits  of  life. 

I  ought  here,  however,  to  remark,  that  the  pur- 
poses of  relaxation  may  be  accomplished,  to  a 
great  extent,  by  a  course  of  useful  reading.  This, 
of  course,  is  not  of  itself  sufficient,  because  it 
makes  no  provision  for  bodily  exercise :  still  it 
may  frequently  be  resorted  to  with  good  effect ; 
and  every  prudent  young  man  will  take  care  that 
it  constitutes  a  part  of  the  economy  of  life. 
Comparatively  few  are  professionally  devoted  to 
pursuits  that  are  in  themselves  specially  adapted 
to  the  culture  of  the  mind  ;  but  with  almost  any 
worldly  vocation  there  may  be  connected  a  habit 
of  useful  reading,  that  shall  keep  the  faculties  in 
healthful  exercise,  and  in  a  constant  course  of 
improvement. 

I  hardly  need  say  that  it  is  of  the  greatest 
importance  to  your  fulfilling  with  diligence  your 
various  duties,  that  you  should  use  all  requisite 
means  for  the  preservation  of  your  health  ;  for 
you  may  rest  assured  that,  if  your  health  fails, 
your  power  of  exertion  fails  with  it ;  and  health 
is  not  so  easy  a  thing  to  be  retained,  that  you  can 


DILIGENCE.  127 

hopo  to  remain  in  the  possession  of  it  without 
grez.',  care  and  vigilance.  With  a  view  to  this, 
avoid  ail  habits  of  excess.  Be  careful  particularlv 
in  respect  to  food,  and  rest,  and  exercise :  have 
fixed  rules,  so  far  as  you  can,  in  regard  to  each, 
and  let  nothing  but  invincible  necessity  lead  you 
to  depart  frona  them.  If  your  occupation  subjects 
you  to  a  sedentary  habit  —  for  instance,  if  it  be 
that  of  a  student,  there  is  additional  reason  why 
you  should  give  heed  to  these  directions ;  lor 
nothing  but  a  scrupulous  observance  of  them 
will  counteract  the  tendencies  to  disease  incident 
to  .=uch  a  vocation.  I  could  refer  you  to  cases 
without  number  ip  which  the  noblest  minds  have 
bp.en  prostrated  anCi  mmed  by  a  neglect  of  those 
wholesome  rules  which  Providence  has  prescribeii 
for  the  regulation  of  our  physical  nature. 

It  has  doubtless  sometimes  occurred  to  you,  as 
a  matter  of  surprise,  that  some  persons  who  seem 
to  be  always  busy,  and  when  applied  to  for  any 
service,  never  have  a  moment  of  leisure  to  give 
to  it,  after  all,  accomplish  very  little.  If  you 
scrutinize  the  case,  you  will  almost  always  find 
that  the  chief  difficulty  lies  in  the  want  of  method. 
These    persons    are   willing   enough   to   labour; 


128  DILIGENCE. 

but  they  have  never  trained  themselves  to  labour 
systematically.  They  take  every  thing  at  random, 
and  of  course  at  disadvantage.  Nothing  is  done 
in  its  appropriate  place — nothing  at  the  proper 
time ;  and  hence  that  which  is  done,  is  often  to 
very  little  purpose.  You  may  be  the  busiest  man 
in  the  community,  and  your  efforts  may  generally 
be  well  directed  ;  and  yet,  without  system,  you 
would  hardly  be  missed,  if  you  should  be  removed 
from  the  world.  Endeavour  then  always  to  work 
bv  rule.  Let  your  duties  succeed  each  other  so 
as  to  produce  no  confusion — so  that  you  shall 
never  find  yourself  lost  in  the  midst  of  them.  Let 
your  diligence  be  systematic  as  well  as  earnest 
and  persevering,  and  it  caunot  fail  to  ot  bolU 
eliecuve  and  delightful. 


ECONOMY.  1 29 


LETTER  X. 


There  is  at  least  one  incident  recorded  in  the 
life  of  Joseph,  that  strikingly  illustrates  his  fore- 
sight and  sagacity  in  respect  to  the  management 
of  his  worldly  concerns.  Immediately  after  his 
appointment  to  the  office  of  governour  of  the  land 
of  Egypt,  he  went  forth,  in  anticipation  of  the 
famine  which  had  been  divinely  revealed  to  him 
as  about  to  come  upon  the  land,  and  gathered  up 
all  the  food  of  the  plenteous  seven  years  which 
were  then  passing,  and  deposited  it  in  the  various 
cities,  that  it  might  be  ready  against  the  time  of 
need.  That  anticipated  period  quickly  came ; 
and  the  consequence  was  that,  while  there  was  a 
universal  famine  prevailing,  to  use  the  language 
of  the  narrative,  "  in  all  lands,"  there  was  plenty 
of  bread  throughout  the  land  of  Egypt.  It  was 
a  noble  example   for  a   ruler ;  and   it  conveys  »• 


130  ECONOMY. 

lesson  of  economy,  which  is  especially  worthy 
the  attention  of  every  young  man. 

But,  before  I  attempt  to  enforce  this  lesson,  I 
must  say  a  word  to  guard  you  against  confounding 
this  virtue  (for  such  the  genuine  quality  really  is,) 
with  another  quality  which  is  often  mistaken  for 
it — viz:  meanness  in  pecuniary  transactions 
This  mistake  has  been  made  by  those  who  havb 
departed  from  true  economy,  on  the  right  hand 
and  on  the  left.  There  are  some  who  actually 
exemplify  the  attribute  of  meanness,  who  contrive 
to  protect  themselves  from  self  reproach  by  the 
reflection  that  they  are  only  observing  the  rules  of 
economy,  and  that  economy  is  a  noble  virtue  : 
while  there  are  others  who  verge  quite  to  the 
opposite  extreme,  and,  in  the  exercise  of  a  prodigal 
spirit,  stigmatize  as  mean  what  is  really  nothing 
more  than  a  becoming  frugality.  But  names, 
after  all,  however  much  men  may  be  deceived  by 
them,  do  not  affect  things; — there  is  such  a  thing 
as  economy,  and  there  is  such  a  thing  as  meanness  ; 
and  they  are  as  really  distinct  from  each  other,  as 
any  good  quality  and  any  bad  quality  that  you 
can  name. 

The   spirit  which  I  am  reprobating  as  being 


ECONOMY.  131 

sometimes  confounded  with  economy,  most  fre- 
quently discovers  itself  in  little  things;  and  it 
never  fails  to  impart  a  corresponding  littleness  to 
the  entire  character.  It  does  not  necessarily 
imply  any  intention  to  be  dishonest,  though  it 
often  runs  to  such  a  length  that  those  who  witness 
its  operations,  will  wonder  how  they  are  to  be 
reconciled  with  strict  integrity.  I  have  known 
some  men  of  excellent  talents,  and  otherwise  of 
excellent  character,  who  have  well  nigh  ruined 
themselves  with  this  spirit  of  pseudo-economy. 
Nay,  I  have  known  men  of  great  conscientious- 
ness, and  I  have  no  doubt  of  sincere  piety,  who 
withal  were  in  the  habit  of  contributing  largely  to 
the  great  objects  of  Christian  benevolence,  who 
yet,  from  education  or  habit,  were  so  insufferably 
mean,  that  a  liberal  mind  could  scarcely  think  of 
them  with  patience.  The  secret  of  this  no  doubt 
generally  is.  that,  with  perhaps  a  naturally  money- 
loving  spirit,  they  have  been  early  constrained 
to  the  greatest  economy  in  order  to  secure  an 
education  or  raise  themselves  in  life;  and,  as  a 
consequence,  they  have  acquired  a  sort  of  penu- 
rious and  miserly  habit,  which,  though  it  may 
yield  to  the  triumph  of  conscience  and  principle 


132  ECONOMY. 

in  greater  matters,  shows  itself  unconquered  in 
respect  to  the  less.  I  remember  to  have  heard  of 
a  New  England  governour,  who,  many  years  ago, 
was  crossing  a  ferry  on  his  way  to  the  seat  of 
government,  and,  on  being  landed,  asked  the 
ferryman  what  he  had  to  pay.  The  ferryman, 
presuming  that  it  would  be  safe  to  trust  to  the 
honour  and  self  respect  of  so  distinguished  a 
personage,  replied,  "  What  you  please,  sir  ;" 
expecting  that  he  should  receive  at  least  double 
the  usual  fee.  The  governour  handed  him  out  a 
piece  of  money  which  was  only  half  the  fee  to 
which  he  was  legally  entitled,  and  remarked  that 
"  he  would  not  stand  for  change  !"  It  is,  to  say 
the  least,  an  awkward  thing  for  a  governour  to  sell 
his  dignity  for  a  New-York  sixpence. 

Against  this  spirit  I  entreat  you,  as  you  value 
your  standing  and  influence  in  society,  to  be  on 
your  guard.  The  reputation  of  being  poor  never 
need  terrify  you ;  for  poverty  in  itself  is  not 
dishonourable  ; — but  to  be  regarded,  and  deserv- 
edly regarded,  mean,  were  an  evil  to  which  no 
earthly  advantage  should  be  considered  an  adequate 
ofTset.  Be  careful  that  you  do  not  put  your 
reputation  at  hazard  in  this  way,  even  by  equivocal 


ECONOMY.  133 

acts.  If  your  circumstances  will  not  permit  you 
to  appear  generous,  by  meeting  claims  that  are 
made  upon  you,  and  that  you  might  be  expected 
promptly  to  answer,  let  an  honest  statement  of 
your  circumstances  prevent  all  misapprehension  of 
your  motives.  If  the  stigma  of  meanness  is  once 
fastened  upon  you,  there  is  great  reason  to  fear 
that,  in  spite  of  all  you  can  do,  it  will  remain 
upon  you  for  life ;  and  even  if  you  should  attempt 
to  retrieve  your  character  by  subsequent  acts  of 
generosity,  you  need  not  wonder  if  it  should  be 
said  that  this  is  all  a  matter  of  calculation  and 
effort,  and  that  you  have  just  as  much  the  heart 
of  a  miser  or  a  niggard  as  ever. 

Having  said  thus  much  to  guard  you  against  a 
perversion  of  the  quality  which  I  would  recom- 
mend, I  am  now  prepared  to  urge  upon  your  con- 
sideration the  virtue  itself — in  other  words,  to 
illustrate  the  importance  of  strict  economy  in  your 
pecuniary  concerns. 

It  is  important  that  you  should  practise  economy 
in  the  management  of  your  business.  Suppose 
you  are  devoted  to  mercantile  pursuits — without 
that  rigid  economy  which  is  the  result  of  much 
forethought   and  calculation,    you    can    have  no 


1 34  ECONOMY. 

reasonable  hope  of  success  j  for,  though  you  may 
have  ever  so  large  a  capital  to  trade  upon,  you 
will  find  that  it  will  not  be  proof  against  a 
negligent  and  random  sort  of  management.  If 
you  are  careless  in  your  purchases,  and  careless 
in  your  sales,  and  careless  in  your  charges,  you 
will  inevitably  reap  the  fruit  of  your  carelessness 
in  the  gradual  diminution,  and,  at  no  distant 
period,  the  complete  wreck  of  your  property.  If ' 
you  will  be  a  successful  merchant,  you  must 
husband  your  means  with  the  utmost  care,  and 
ever  be  on  the  alert  to  avert  threatening  losses, 
and  to  avail  yourself  of  every  fair  and  honourable 
advantage.  And  so  in  regard  to  every  other  occu- 
pation—  if  you  are  a  mechanic,  or  a  physician,  or 
a  lawyer,  you  ought  to  realize  the  legitimate 
benefits  of  your  profession  ;  and  this  you  can  never 
do  Avithout  adhering  to  strict  economy. 

Nor  is  there  less  need  of  economy  in  regard  to 
your  personal  expenses  ;  in  which  I  include  dress, 
furniture,  equipage — every  thing  that  enters  inlo 
one's  mode  of  living.  And  here  allow  nie  to 
malce  a  remark  to  guard  you  against  what  I  am 
constrained  to  consider  one  of  the  uitraisms  of  the 
day:  —  viz.   that   the  same  general  styl^"  of  living 


ECONOMY.  ,     135 

should  be  observed  by  all  without  reference  to 
the  circumstances  in  which  Providence  has  piuced 
them ;  and  that  those  who  have  large  estates, 
whether  by  inheritance  or  by  their  own  acquisi- 
tion, have  no  right  to  appropriate  any  part  of 
their  wealth  for  their  own  personal  gratification, 
above  what  is  necessary  to  their  bare  subsistence 
in  the  plainest  manner.  Now,  I  do  not  believe  a 
word  of  this.  It  is  evidently  the  design  of  Provi- 
dence that  there  should  be  distinctions  in  society  ; 
these  distinctions  are  clearly  recognized  in  scrip- 
ture ;  and  though  they  are  capable  of  being 
greatly  perverted  and  abused,  yet,  in  themselves, 
they  are  not  sinful — they  are  even  necessary  to 
the  accomplishment  of  the  greatest  good,  and  the 
enjoyment  of  the  highest  happiness.  I  say  then, 
that  this  levelling  system  which  would  tear  up  all 
the  carpets  from  our  floors,  and  substitute  lor 
elegant  furniture  the  plainest  utensils,  and  carry 
us  far  back  toward  the  ages  of  barbarism,  however 
its  advocates  may  urge  it  under  the  plea  of 
benevolence  or  even  piety,  receives  no  counte- 
nance either  from  the  word  or  the  Providence  of 
God.  If  you  are  in  affluent  circumstances,  you 
have  a  right  to  live  more  expensively  than  if  you 


136  ECONOMY. 

were  in  indigence  ;  and  if  you  gather  around  you 
some  of  the  luxuries  and  elegances  of  life,  I  do 
not  believe  that  you  are  chargeable  with  wrong 
But,  after  all,  the  obligations  of  economy  rest  on 
you,  just  as  truly  as  if  you  were  poor.  You  are 
bound  to  take  heed  that  your  property  does  not 
go  needlessly  to  waste ;  and  that  you  do  not 
indulge  your  elegant  tastes  at  the  expense  of  the 
claims  of  either  justice  or  charity.  That  is  cer- 
tainly a  criminal  extravagance  that  appropriates 
great  possessions  to  mere  purposes  of  worldly 
splendour,  and  turns  a  deaf  ear  to  the  imploring 
voice  of  human  want. 

But  it  is  the  few  only  who  are  rich :  the  great 
mass  are  in  circumstances  of  mediocrity  or  com- 
parative indigence  :  and  these  should  practise  a 
degree  of  economy  corresponding  to  the  condition 
in  which  Providence  has  placed  them.  They 
should  be  particularly  careful  that  their  expenses 
are  not  greater  than  are  justified  by  their  income  ; 
and  if  there  should  be  a  necessity  to  curtail  them, 
they  should  never  hesitate  from  an  apprehension 
of  awakening  suspicion  in  regard  to  their  worldly 
circumstances.  There  are  some  young  men, 
whom   every   body   knows   to    be  poor,  who  yet 


ECONOMY. 


137 


have  a  perfect  passion  to  surround  themselves 
with  the  insignia  of  opulence.  They  dress  in  an 
extravagant  style,  and  ride  in  an  expensive 
carriage,  and,  on  all  public  occasions  particularly, 
appear  unusually  flush  of  their  money,  with  the 
idea  of  hiding  from  the  world  their  poverty,  or 
possibly  of  makmg  the  appearance  of  wealth  a 
bait  to  some  young  girl  who  happens  to  possess 
the  reality.  But  such  experiments  only  demon- 
strate the  folly  of  those  who  make  them.  Let  a 
young  man  who  is  poor  thus  try  to  appear 
wealthy,  or  let  one  only  get  the  reputation  of 
living  in  a  style  which  his  income  does  not 
warrant,  and,  from  that  hour,  there  will  come  a 
shade  over  his  character:  he  will  be  looked  upon, 
at  least,  with  suspicion,  if  he  is  not  set  down  as 
absolutely  untrustworthy. 

There  are  two  powerful  reasons  suggested  by 
the  history  of  Joseph,  why  every  young  man 
should  cultivate  the  virtue  which  I  am  recom- 
mending. The  first  is  connected  with  a  suitable 
providence  in  regard  to  the  future.  Joseph,  in 
"■iie  prospect  of  the  years  of  famine,  made  pro- 
vision for  them  during  the  years  of  p  *:niy  ;  and 
It  was  this  only  that   enabled   him   tc    vrxf^i^^  \b<* 


138  ECONOMY. 

demands  of  his  people  for  bread.  He  indeed  was 
apprized  of  the  approaching  dearth,  by  divine 
intimation  ;  but  yoit  are  left  to  the  calculations  of 
an  unassisted  foresight.  This  much,  however, 
you  know  —  that  your  lot  is  cast  in  a  world  of 
vicissitude ;  that  riches  often  take  to  themselves 
wings  and  fly  away  ;  and  that  in  the  changes  of 
business  and  the  chances  of  adventure,  even  the 
richest  man  in  the  community  has  no  security 
that  he  may  not  lose  every  thing.  Here  then  is 
a  reason  why  you  should  look  to  what  you  possess 
with  the  strictest  care  ;  why  you  should  not,  from 
inconsideration  or  neglect,  run  the  chance  of 
losing  it.  You  imagine  perhaps  that  you  have 
no  particular  need  of  economy,  as  you  have 
enough  to  live  upon  now,  and  you  do  not  think 
it  well  to  be  anxious  for  the  future.  Certainly 
you  should  not  indulge  an  undue  solicitude  ;  but 
there  is  a  degree  of  forethought  which  you  are 
bound  to  take  and  without  which  your  prospect 
is  shrouded  in  gloom.  If  you  have  enough,  and 
only  enough  to  support  you  now,  what  will  you 
do  in  the  time  of  sickness,  when  you  will  be 
unable  to  labour; — what,  in  the  winter  season  of 
old  age,  if  you  should  be  spared  to  that  period,  — 


ECONOMY.  139 

when  the  grasshopper  shall  be  a  burden,  and  the 
almond  tree  flourish  ?  Surely,  you  will  not  wish 
then  to  be  dependant  on  the  charity  of  the  world. 
Cultivate  economy  then  now,  as  the  preventive  of 
such  a  calamity  ;  and,  if  no  such  exigency  should 
arise,  you  need  not  fear  but  that  your  earnings 
may  still  be  appropriated  to  bless  and  comfort 
your  fellow  creatures. 

And  this  leads  me  to  advert  to  the  other  reason 
which  Joseph's  experience  suggests  for  your  cul- 
tivating this  habit — I  mean  the  ability  which  it 
will  secure  to  you  of  administering  to  the  wants 
of  others — of  helping  forward  the  great  cause  of 
Christian  charity.  Though  it  does  not  appear  that 
Joseph,  when  he  evinced  such  provident  regard 
for  the  future,  by  laying  up  corn  in  store-houses, 
had  any  intimation  that  he  would  ever  have  an 
opportunity  of  relieving  the  wants  of  his  own 
family,  yet  so  it  turned  out:  when  they  might 
otherwise  have  perished  from  the  famine,  they 
were  supplied,  through  his  provident  bounty,  with 
every  comfort  that  they  could  desire;  and  espe- 
cially he  had  the  privilege  of  ministering  to  the 
necessities  of  his  aged  father,  from  whom  he  had 
suffered  a  long  and  cruel  exile.     Is  it  not  worth 


140  ECONOMY. 

while  to  practise  economy,  even  in  the  possibility 
of  such  a  result?  Perhaps,  by  this  means,  you 
may  be  enabled  to  invite  your  parents,  in  the 
decline  of  life,  to  come  and  make  their  residence 
by  the  side  of  you,  and  to  find  their  wants  all 
supplied  from  your  filial  bounty ;  or  else,  if  you 
are  separated  from  them,  you  may  gladden  their 
hearts  by  sending  them  the  requisite  supplies — 
the  fruit  of  your  habitual  economy.  Or  else,  like 
Joseph,  you  may  have  brothers  who  are  in  need  — 
possibly  brothers  who,  by  some  visitation  of  Pro- 
vidence, are  rendered  unable  to  help  themselves — 
tvhat  a  comfort  would  it  be  to  you  to  be  able  to 
stretch  out  the  hand  of  charity  towards  them,  and 
lo  ofier  them  perhaps  a  quiet  home  and  a  comfort- 
able support !  But  even  if  you  should  have  no 
relatives  to  require  your  assistance,  you  live  in  a 
world  that  is  full  of  the  suffering  poor  ;  in  a  world 
where  the  blessings  of  Christianity  are  yet  but 
partially  diffused  ;  in  a  world  where  money — 
worthless  as  we  sometimes  account  it  —  will  avail 
to  a  thousand  purposes  of  human  happiness  and 
improvement.  Do  you  not  aspire  to  the  privilege 
of  being  a  benefactor  to  your  fellow  creatures? 
Ls  there   not  a   chord  strung  in  your  heart,  that 


DIGNITY.  141 

vibrates  gratefully  to  the  thought  that  your  earn- 
ings may  tell  on  the  best  interests  of  many  whom 
you  will  never  see  on  earth  —  that  the  blessing  of 
some  who  are  ready  to  perish  may  come  upon 
you  1  Then,  I  say,  yet  once  more,  practise  the 
virtue  of  economy.  Live  frugally  that  you  may 
live  not  for  yourself  alone;  that  if  you  do  not 
leave  behind  j^ou  wealth  to  be  distributed  for  the 
benefit  of  others,  you  may  at  least  leave  behind 
you  an  example  which  it  will  be  for  the  interest 
of  others  to  imitate. 


LETTER  XL 


DIGNITY. 


There  are  two  senses  in  which  the  word  dignity 
in  relation  to  man  may  be  considered.  It  may 
have  respect  either  to  the  character  or  the  man- 
ners—  to  the  inward  feeling  or  the  external 
conduct.  An  individual  may  possess  dignity  of 
character — in    other    words,    true    nobleness   of 


1 42  DIGNITT. 

mind  —  and  yet,  owing  to  some  defect  either  of 
constitution  or  of  education,  there  may  be  but  a 
very  imperfect  external  development  of  it;  though, 
in  most  cases,  there  is  no  defect  which  may  not  be 
remedied  by  suitable  culture.  And  on  the  other 
hand,  it  is  quite  possible  that  an  individual  may 
exhibit  much  of  the  appearance  of  dignity, 
without  any  of  those  feelings  with  which  'the 
genuine  quality  is  identified  —  his  manners  may 
be  characterized  by  the  absence  of  every  thing 
light  and  frivolous,  by  a  winning  gracefulness,  and 
apparently  by  a  suitable  regard  to  the  company  in 
which  he  mingles  ;  and  yet,  after  all,  this  may  be 
the  result  of  calculation  and  nothing  else  —  in 
other  words,  it  may  be  a  matter  of  deliberate  and 
studied  artifice.  The  dignity  which  I  would 
recommend,  and  of  which  Joseph  was  an  illustrious 
example,  is  at  once  the  dignity  of  principle,  of 
feeling,  and  of  action.  In  a  word,  it  is  an  all 
pervading  attribute  of  the  man. 

There  is  not  a  single  incident  in  Joseph's 
history,  that  even  seems  to  involve  the  least 
departure  from  true  dignity — on  the  contrary, 
this  beautiful  quality  was  reflected  in  every  more 
important  action  of  his  life.     You  never  find  him 


DIGNITY.  143 

foro^etting  the  peculiar  circumstances  in  which  he 
was  placed,  or  the  relations  which  he  sustained  to 
those  around  him  ;  but,  on  all  occasions,  he  is 
influenced  by  the  most  delicate  sense  of  propriety, 
and  seems  always  instinctively  to  do  the  very  thing 
which  the  most  mature  consideration  would  have 
prompted.  Whether  he  was  a  slave  or  a  governour, 
whether  in  the  palace  or  in  the  prison,  there  was  a 
discreet  and  thoughtful  manner — a  delightful 
appropriateness  in  all  his  conduct,  that  revealed 
the  inward  workings  of  a  great  and  noble  spirit. 

Taking  for  granted  that  true  dignity  has  its 
foundation  in  virtuous  dispositions,  and  is  itself 
either  the  principle  or  the  expression  of  a  lofty 
form  of  virtue,  let  me  call  your  attention  briefly 
to  some  of  its  more  prominent  ingredients — to 
some  of  those  qualities,  both  as  it  respects  the 
inner  and  the  outer  man,  which  you  must  diligently 
cultivate,  if  you  would  furnish  an  example  of  this 
noble  characteristic. 

I  would  say  then,  in  the  first  place,  the  utmost 
purity  —  purity  of  conduct,  of  conversation,  of 
thought  and  feeling — is  essential  to  true  dignity. 
I  have  had  occasion  to  remark,  in  a  preceding 
letter,  that  there  is  nothing  so  degrading  to  oui 


144  DIGNITY. 

nature — nothing  that  approaches  so  nearly  to  tlie 
putting  off  of  the  man  and  the  putting  on  of  the 
brute,  as  the  habit  of  excessive  sensual  indulgence. 
No  matter  what  else  an  individual  may  be,  if  he 
surrenders  himself  to  the  tyranny  of  his  bodily 
appetites,  he  is,  in  the  worst  sense,  a  slave — he 
may  indeed  play  the  tyrant  toward  others,  but  it 
is  impossible  that  he  should  hold  them  in  so 
degrading  a  bondage  as  that  of  which  he  is  himself 
the  subject.  It  is  possible  indeed,  that  one  may 
be  a  sensualist  in  thought  and  feeling,  and,  to  the 
eye  of  God,  may  appear  in  all  the  guilt  and 
pollution  that  belongs  to  such  a  character,  and 
yet,  by  the  exercise  of  great  self  restraint,  may 
pass  with  the  world  for  a  man  of  a  clean  heart ; 
but,  in  all  ordinary  cases,  the  impure  fountain  in 
the  soul  will  send  forth  streams  not  less  visible  and 
palpable  than  loathsome  and  contaminating.  Let 
a  man  be  known  to  belong  to  this  class,  and  he 
can  never  pass,  even  with  dissolute  men  them- 
selves, for  a  person  of  true  dignity.  He  may 
possess  every  external  attraction,  he  may  be  at 
home  in  the  most  polished  circles,  he  may  be  a 
thoroughly  educated  and  accomplished  man. — 
and  yet,  if  he  is  understood  to  be  a  libertine,  hia 


DIGNITY.  145 

very  name  is  a  synonyme  for  a  debasing  loath- 
someness. 

Let  me  entreat  you  then,  my  young  friends, 
as  you  would  possess  not  only  the  reputation  of 
being  dignified,  but  the  substantial  quality  also, 
to  exercise  the  utmost  self  control  in  regard  to 
the  bodily  appetites.  And  to  this  end,  endeavour, 
so  far  as  possible,  to  keep  out  of  the  reach  of 
temptation.  Forbid  your  imagination  to  wander 
amidst  objects  or  scenes  of  a  polluting  character ; 
and,  if  you  find  it  inclined  to  these  unhallowed 
excursions,  let  the  energy  of  your  whole  soul  be 
put  in  requisition  to  restrain  it.  Let  no  corrupt 
communication  proceed  out  of  your  mouth ;  for 
if  an  evil  heart  is  the  natural  fountain  of  vulgar 
and  licentious  conversation,  such  conversation  in 
turn  renders  the  heart  more  prolific  of  evil.  I 
might  urge  you  to  the  cultivation  of  this  inward 
purity  from  other  considerations ;  particularly  as 
it  identifies  itself  with  your  happiness  both  in  this 
world  and  the  next ;  but  this  and  other  views  of 
the  subject,  I  must  be  contented  to  leave  to  your 
own  private  reflection. 

Another  leading  element  of  a  dignified  character 
IS  discretion — by   which    I   intend    an   accurate 


1 46  DIGNITY. 

discernment  united  with  a  due  degree  of  caution. 
I  am  well  aware  that  there  is  a  great  diversity  in 
the  original  constitutions  of  men  in  this  respect ;  — 
that,  while  some  are  naturally  impetuous  and,  in 
a  great  measure,  thoughtless  of  consequences, 
others  are  naturally  considerate,  and  rarely  say  or 
do  an  important  thing  which  is  not  the  result  of 
previous  reflection.  But,  notwithstanding  this  ori- 
ginal difference,  there  is  no  doubt  that  discretion, 
like  any  other  good  quality,  is  susceptible  of  being 
cultivated  ;  and  no  one  is  excusable  in  the  eye 
either  of  God  or  man — let  his  constitutional  ten- 
dencies be  what  they  may — who  fails  to  possess  it. 
Without  it,  an  individual  will  be  continually 
saying  and  doing  unfit  things;  and  though  many 
of  his  errours  may  be  the  result  of  ignorance,  yet, 
as  that  ignorance  results  from  the  want  of  due 
reflection  and  attention,  it  will  not,  and  ought  not 
to  be  admitted  as  an  apology.  In  the  intercourse 
of  society,  how  often  are  the  feelings  of  individuals 
severely  tried,  and  a  whole  circle  perhaps  thrown 
into  the  greatest  embarrassment,  by  a  single  remark 
which  the  least  particle  of  discretion  would  have 
prevented ;  while  the  person  uttering  the  remark 
thereby    renders    his    presence   unwelcome,  and 


DIGNITY.  147 

perhaps  creates  a  painful  association  in  the  minds 
of  those  who  hear  it,  that  will  never  be  removed. 
No  person  with  this  kind  of  spirit  ever  possessed 
true  dignity  of  manners.  I  do  not  say  that  some- 
thing like  this  may  not  and  does  not  often  exist 
in  connection  with  general  good  intentions — if 
you  please,  with  the  spirit  of  benevolence  and 
devotion  ;  but  you  may  rest  assured  that, 
wherever  it  exists,  it  mars  the  character,  and 
interferes  with  the  legitimate  influence  of  any 
good  qualities  with  which  it  happens  to  be 
associated. 

Simplicity  and  modesty,  in  opposition  to  all 
afi'ected  and  consequential  airs,  belong  also  to 
true  dignity.  And  yet  there  are  young  men  not 
a  few,  who  suppose  themselves  dignified  in  the 
view  of  the  world,  just  in  proportion  to  the 
number  of  these  airs  which  they  are  able  to 
assume.  You  converse  with  them,  and  you  see 
that  their  conversation,  instead  of  being  free  and 
natural,  is  characterized  by  unceasing  efTort  — 
etibrt  to  say  things  which  the  circumstances 
neither  suggest  nor  warrant,  but  which  are 
supposed  to  illustrate  their  own  fancied  superi- 
jrity.       Not    unfrequently    the    same    feeling    is 


148  DIGNITY. 

betrayed  in  the  air  with  which  they  walk  the 
streets,  and  especially  with  which  they  enter  any 
pnblick  place  of  resort,  where  they  suppose  the 
eyes  of  the  multitude  are  turned  upon  them. 
You  will  never  find  young  men  of  this  character 
in  the  company  of  their  superiors  —  they  niaj^ 
indeed  be  surrounded  by  men  venerable  for  their 
age  and  standing  in  society  —  men  who  may  have 
a  character  for  greatness  as  well  as  goodness  that 
reaches  beyond  their  own  country  ;  and  yet  these 
striplings,  nothing  daunted  by  such  company, 
will  talk  on  with  oracular  confidence,  and  with  a 
pertness  that  knows  not  how  to  blush.  If  you 
will  cultivate  true  dignity,  you  must  have  no 
communion  with  an  assuming  or  arrogant  spirit. 
I  would  not,  by  any  means,  have  you  yield  to  an 
unbecoming  diffidence,  which  would  render  you 
at  once  awkward  and  uncomfortable,  and  would 
also  be  inconsistent  with  suitable  self-respect ; 
nevertheless,  whatever  your  talents  or  acquire- 
ments may  be,  I  would  have  you  bear  in  mind 
that  you  are  a  young  man,  and  as  such,  are  bound 
to  show  a  modest  deference  toward  your  superiors 
in  age,  especially  if,  as  is  very  likely  to  be  the 
case,  they  are  also  your  superiors  in  wisdom.     In 


DIGNITY.  149 

the  expression  of  your  opinion,  always  show  a 
becoming  respect  towards  those  who  differ  from 
you  ;  and,  however  freely  you  may  give  reasons 
to  justify  it,  let  there  be  nothing  in  your  manner 
that  shall  seem  to  claim  for  yourself  the  attribute 
of  infallibility. 

Closely  allied  to  the  qualities  of  which  I  have 
just  spoken  is  courtesy — or  general  politeness 
connected  with  kindness.  The  importance  of  this, 
both  to  one's  comfort  and  usefulness,  is  generally 
but  very  inadequately  estimated  ;  and  for  want  of 
duly  cultivating  it,  many  persons  of  great  minds 
and  good  hearts,  go  through  life  without  ever 
passing  for  any  thing  more  than  ordinary  men. 
Genuine  courtesy  will  throw  an  atmosphere 
around  you  which  will  render  it  delightful  to  be 
in  your  company.  It  will  not  lead  you  to  burden 
your  friends  with  forced  expressions  of  kindness, 
or  to  urge  upon  them  hospitalities  which  you  know 
they  cannot  accept,  or  to  give  them  your  time 
when  it  is  demanded  by  urgent  and  indispensable 
duties.  It  will  not  lead  you  to  treat  every  body 
with  the  same  degree  of  confidence  and  warmth, 
leaving  each  one  to  suppose,  provided  he  can  be 
duped  into  it,  that  he  is  your  peculiar  favourite, 


150  DIGNITY. 

and  that,  if  you  should  ever  have  high  places  at 
your  disposal,  he  should  occupy  the  very  highest. 
No,  this  neither  constitutes  true  courtesy,  nor  is 
consistent  with  it.  But  it  does  belong  to  this 
quality,  to  dictate  a  considerate  regard  to  the 
character  and  feelings  of  all  with  whom  you 
mingle.  It  will  prompt  you  to  acts  of  civility 
and  respect,  even  where  you  are  unable  to  confer 
substantial  favours;  and  thus  will  impress  itself 
most  gratefully  and  indelibly  on  the  memories 
of  those  toward  whom  it  is  exercised.  I  could 
almost  say  that  I  had  rather  have  a  request 
refused  by  some  men  than  to  have  it  granted  by 
others  ;  for,  while  one  would  satisfy  me  of  his 
earnest  desire  to  meet  my  wishes,  and  of  his 
sincere  regret  that  he  was  unable  to  do  it,  and 
would,  by  his  whole  manner,  leave  upon  my 
mind  an  impression  of  his  good  will  and  gene- 
rosity, another  would  indeed  give  me  what  I 
asked,  but  would  do  it  in  such  an  ungracious  way, 
and  perhaps  Avith  so  much  of  the  spirit  of  fault 
finding,  that  I  should  go  away  thinking  little  of 
the  accommodation  which  I  had  received,  in 
comparison  with  the  uncomfortable  and  freezing 
interview  with  which  it  had  been  connected. 


DIGNITY.  1  5  1 

If  you  will  cultivate  true  courtesy,  you  must 
cultivate  true  benevolence ;  for  without  benevo- 
lent feelings,  there  is  really  no  foundation  for 
genuine  politeness.  You  must  acquire  a  suitable 
degree  of  self  command  in  order  to  save  yourself 
from  awkward  embarrassment.  And  you  must 
have  that  knowledge  of  the  forms  of  society 
which  shall  make  you  at  home  in  the  various 
circles  into  which  you  may  be  cast.  Let  me  say, 
you  may  derive  great  advantage  in  this  respect, 
from  contemplating  the  characters  of  those  who 
have  been  eminent  for  this  quality  —  of  such  men, 
for  instance,  as  Wilberforce  and  Thornton,  and  I 
will  venture  to  add,  as  one  of  the  finest  models, 
that  I  have  ever  met  with — our  own  lamented 
Stephen  Van  Rgnsselaer.  By  holding  to  your 
mind  the  record  of  what  they  were,  you  will 
insensibly  imbibe  the  same  spirit  which  animated 
them,  and,  under  its  influence,  will  exhibit  some- 
what of  a  corresponding  deportment.  Nay,  think 
it  not  strange  that  I  recommend  to  your  special 
study  and  imitation  in  this  respect,  the  example 
of  the  Saviour  of  the  world ;  for  I  need  not  say 
that  he  was  a  perfect  model  of  propriety  in  every 
relation. 


152  DIGNITY. 

Moreover,  you  can  never  possess  true  dignity 
without  decision  of  character.  You  may  indeed 
possess  many  amiable  and  vv^inning  qualities 
without  it — you  may  have  the  amiableness  that 
conciliates,  and  the  gracefulness  that  fascinates, 
and  you  may  have  fine  intellectual  powers  that 
will  render  it  an  object  with  many  to  seek  your 
company ;  and  yet,  after  all,  if  you  lack  firmness 
of  purpose  —  if  you  are  at  the  mercy  of  every 
breath  of  influence  that  may  happen  to  fall  upon 
you,  you  lack  one  of  the  most  essential  elements 
of  true  dignity.  A  vacillating  character  can  never 
command  respect  where  once  it  has  come  to  be 
understood.  Whatever  good  qualities  there  may 
be  connected  with  it,  the  simple  fact  that  you 
know  not  where  to  find  the  individual,  and  that 
his  opinion  on  any  subject  one  month  is  no  indica- 
tion what  it  may  be  the  next,  throws  around  him 
an  air  of  insignificance  which  no  redeeming  traits 
Avill  enable  you  to  forget.  I  am  aware  that  firm- 
ness is  sometimes  mistaken  for  obstinacy,  and 
obstinacy  for  firmness  ;  but  the  difference  is  that 
the  one  yields  to  the  power  of  evidence  —  the 
other  is  unyielding  in  spite  of  evidence.  If  a 
fickle  mind  marks  one  as  the  subject  of  weakness, 


DIGNITY.  153 

an  obstinate  mind  is  no  less  indicative  of  ignorance, 
passion,  or  prejudice.  Cultivate  firmness  ;  but  be- 
ware botti  of  fickleness  and  obstinacy. 

If  I  were  to  counsel  you,  in  a  single  word,  in 
respect  to  the  best  means  of  attaining  that  dignity 
of  character  which  has  been  the  subject  of  this 
letter,  I  should  say — endeavour  first  to  form  a 
proper  estimate  of  your  relations  and  circum- 
stances, and  then  let  your  conduct  be  strictly 
conformed  to  this  estimate.  Treat  every  body 
around  you  just  in  the  manner  in  which  the  relation 
you  sustain  to  them  requires.  Your  superiors  in 
age  or  standing,  always  treat  with  deferential 
respect.  In  your  intercourse  with  your  equals, 
be  careful  that  your  familiarity  never  degenerates 
into  a  violation  of  the  proprieties  of  life.  Towards 
those  whom  Provi'dence  has  placed  below  you, 
always  be  civil  and  obliging,  and  do  not  attempt 
unduly  to  magnify  the  difference  that  separates 
you  from  them.  Remember  that  true  dignity  is 
independent  of  the  distinctions  of  life — that  you 
may  possess  your  millions  and  yet  be  absolutely 
destitute  of  it — that  you  may  be  in  absolute 
poverty,  and  yet  be  a  noble  example  of  it. 


154  SYMPATHY. 


LETTER  XIL 


SYMPATHY. 


The  whole  tenour  of  the  history  of  Joseph  shows 
that  he  had  a  warm  and  generous  heart ;  that  he 
was  at  the  greatest  remove  from  a  selfish  spirit ; 
thus  his  sensibilities  could  never  slumber,  when 
any  of  the  various  forms  of  human  wo  were  passing' 
under  his  eye.  But  there  is  one  incident  in 
particular,  to  which  I  design  chiefly  to  refer  as  an 
illustration  of  this  feature  of  his  character  —  I 
mean  the  interest  which  he  manifested  in  behalf 
of  his  fellow  prisoners,  when  they  were  perplexed 
from  not  being  able  to  understand  their  own 
dreams. 

The  butler  and  the  baker  each  had  a  dream, 
which  they  suspected  was  of  ominous  import ; 
and  when  Joseph,  who  had,  by  that  time,  been 
made  a  sort  of  overseer  of  his  fellow  prisoners, 
came  in  in  the  morning  to  inspect  his  charge,  he 
found   these  two  men  looking  very  sorrowful,  as 


SYMPATHY.  155 

if  they  were  apprehending  some  great  calamity. 
On  inquiring  concerning  the  cause  of  their 
dejection,  he  was  informed  that  each  of  them 
had  had  a  mysterious  dream  which  they  were 
unable  to  interpret ;  upon  which,  Joseph,  having 
recognized  the  fact  that  "  all  interpretations 
belong  to  God,"  requested  them,  each  to  give 
a  particular  relation  of  his  dream.  This  being 
done,  he  proceeded  at  once  to  act  as  interpreter ; 
and  though  the  interpretation  in  the  two  cases 
was  widely  different, — that  in  relation  to  the 
butler  pointing  to  a  speedy  restoration  to  his 
olUce,  and  that  concerning  the  baker  to  his  being 
hung  up  on  a  tree — yet  it  was  sympathy  in 
Joseph  that  led  him  to  undertake  the  interpreta- 
tion ;  and  however  painful  the  result  was  in 
respect  to  the  latter,  it  was  an  act  of  kindness  in 
him  to  reveal  to  the  poor  fellow  his  fate,  that  he 
might  be  induced  to  make  good  use  of  the  brief 
period  he  had  to  live.  Herein,  my  young  friends, 
is  Joseph  an  example  to  you ;  and  happy  shall  I 
be,  if  any  thing  that  I  can  say  shall  encourage  or 
assist  you  to  the  cultivation  of  the  same  praise- 
worthy spirit. 

There  is  a  sort  of  spurious  sensibility,  which 


156  f         SYMPATHY. 

Christianity,  benevolence,  sincerity,  all  disown. 
I  mean  that  sensibility  which  can  come  bravely 
into  exercise  at  the  tale  of  imaginary  suffering ; 
which  can  weep  away  a  whole  evening  over  a 
play,  or  a  whole  week  over  a  novel ;  but  has  no 
tears  to  shed,  and  no  relief  to  offer,  for  objects 
of  real  distress.  This  miserable  sentimentality, 
(for  of  sensibility  it  does  not  deserve  the  name) 
instead  of  being  an  honour,  is  a  disgrace,  to 
human  nature  ;  and  it  finds  its  reward  in  dream- 
ing about  the  exquisiteness  and  luxury  of  its  own 
exercises.  It  is  the  creature  of  infidel  philosophy. 
Its  field  is  an  imaginary  world.  It  never  blesses 
man — it  never  pleases  God. 

Very  unlike  this  was  the  feeling  which  Joseph 
manifested  in  the  case  to  which  I  have  adverted. 
It  was  not  an  indolent  and  selfish  feeling  that  was 
indulged  merely  for  its  own  sake,  but  a  generous 
and  practical  feeling  that  wakened  into  exercise 
the  active  powers,  and  prompted  to  an  effort  for 
the  relief  of  suffering.  Nor  was  there  any  parade 
about  Joseph's  sympathy.  It  does  not  appear  that 
he  spent  a  moment  in  expressing  his  commisera- 
tion for  their  lot ;  though,  if  he  had  not  been 
deeply  affected  by  it,  he  never  would  have  thus 


SYMPATHY.  157 

enlisted  in  their  behalf;  —  but  he  went  directly 
to  the  work  of  interpreting  their  dreams ;  and 
thus  the  sympathy  which  he  felt  for  them  turned 
to  a  good  account.  It  was  sympathy  ripening  into 
charity — it  was  feeling  passing  into  action. 

There  is  a  chord  strung  in  the  human  heart 
that  naturally  vibrates  to  the  notes  of  sorrow ; 
though  it  must  be  acknowledged  that  all  are  not 
constituted  alike  in  this  respect,  and  that  the 
original  principle  is  capable  of  being  weakened 
or  strengthened,  of  receiving  a  right  or  Avrong 
direction,  according  to  the  influences  to  which  it 
is  subjected.  Your  duty  is  to  cherish  this  princi- 
ple, and  bring  it  into  exercise,  under  the  guiding, 
purifying,  elevating  influences  of  Christianity. 
You  are  to  keep  alive  that  feeling  for  another's 
wo,  that  shall  lead  you,  not  indeed  without 
suitable  discrimination — for  indiscriminate  sym- 
pathy, or  rather  charity,  often  fails  of  its  object  — 
but  according  to  the  dictates  of  an  enlightened 
judgment,  to  administer  such  relief  as  may  be  in 
your  power. 

In  such  a  world  as  this,  you  can  never  be  at  a 
loss  where  to  look  for  objects  that  deserve  your 
sympathy.     They  are  all  around  you,  and  meet 


158  SYMPATHY. 

you  at  every  turn  of  life.  And  they  live  in 
distant  regions  which  your  vision  will  never 
penetrate.  But  even  these  are  legitimate  objects 
of  your  sympathy ;  for  the  story  of  their  degra- 
dation and  wretchedness  has  reached  you  ;  and 
if  the  mind  comprehends,  it  is  not  necessary  that 
the  eye  should  see,  in  order  that  the  heart  may 
feel.  And  it  is  a  delightful  feature  in  the  aspects 
of  Providence,  that  there  is  no  part  of  the  world 
so  dark  or  so  distant,  bat  that  you  may  gain 
access  to  it,  at  least  by  your  charities  and  prayers. 
The  inhabitant  of  Hindostan  or  California  may 
receive  blessings,  which,  but  for  your  sympathy, 
never  would  have  reached  him,  and  which  may 
make  him  rich  to  all  eternity.  But  let  us  traverse 
together  this  wide  field  on  which  your  sympathies 
may  legitimately  opsrate  ;  and  let  me  point  out 
to  you  a  few  of  the  particular  cases  from  wbieh 
you  may  not  —  if  you  have  the  right  spirit — will 
not,  turn  away. 

The  first,  and  perhaps  the  most  common,  case 
that  presents  itself,  is  that  of  bereavement. 
Death  is  doing  his  work,  continually,  every 
where.  Nothing  is  more  common  than  for  the 
families   in   which   you  are  most  intimate,  to  be 


SYMPATHY.  159 

thrown  into  the  depths  of  affliction  by  the  sudden 
removal  to  the  grave  of  some  one  of  their  number. 
Stay  not  needlessly  aw^ay  from  such  a  dwelling ; 
for  you  may  rest  assured  that  the  language  of 
•condolence  foils  sweetly  upon  the  mourner's  ear. 
Your  friends  will  love  to  hear  you  speak  of  their 
departed  friend  ;  and  especially  if  you  go  in  the 
spirit  of  a  Christian,  you  will  carry  a  balm  to 
their  wounded  hearts.  There  is  indeed  great 
delicacy  to  be  observed  in  regard  to  the  sorrows 
of  others — especially  that  overwhelming  flood  of 
grief  that  follows  a  sudden  bereavement ;  and 
there  may  be  circumstances  in  which  it  is  fitting 
that  you  should  refrain  from  visiting  them,  at 
least  till  the  first  gush  of  agonized  feeling  is  past ; 
but  as  soon  as  propriety  will  admit,  you  should 
repair  to  their  dwellings  as  a  sy-mpathizing  friend. 
And  where  this  is  not  practicable,  by  reason  of 
distance  or  any  other  unfavourable  circumstance, 
you  may  often  advantageously  express  your  sym- 
pathy by  writing  a  letter ;  for  while  it  will  be  a 
comfort  to  your  afflicted  friends  to  know  that  you 
are  thinking  of  them  in  their  sorrow,  you  may  be 
able  to  connect  with  your  expressions  of  condo- 
lence  some  good  and  fitting  counsels,  that   shall 


160 


SYMPATHY. 


aid  to  a  right  improvement  of  their  trials.  And 
let  me  say  that  this  last  office  is  one-  that  is 
peculiarly  needful  to  he  discharged  towards  a 
person  in  deep  affliction ;  for  there  is  always 
danger  that,  by  brooding  incessantly  over  his  loss, 
his  mind  may  acquire  that  morbid  habit,  of  which 
a  complaining  spirit  is  the  leading  element,  and 
from  which  the  transition  will  be  to  a  deeper 
neglect  of  the  most  important  interests. 

Sickness  is  another  form  of  trouble  that  may 
well  call  forth  your  sympathy — sickness  under 
any  circumstances,  but  more  especially,  when  it 
is  found  in  connection  with  poverty.  Such  scenes 
as  this,  you  must  go  out  of  the  world,  if  you  will 
avoid  ;  and  if  your  residence  happens  to  be  in  a 
large  city,  a  little  familiarity,  especially  with  the 
outskirts  and  the.  obscurer  parts  of  the  city,  will 
reveal  to  you  scenes  of  this  description  moro 
numerous  and  more  distressing,  than  you  had 
perhaps  ever  imagined.  Sickness  alone  is  bad 
enough — sickness,  when  surrounded  with  all  the 
alleviations  and  appliances  that  wealth  and  friend- 
ship can  furnish,  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  be  borne, 
as  every  one  who  has  had  experience  wil?  testify. 
But   when    poverty  comes  to  be  mingleo   in  the 


SYMPATHY.  161 

same  cup,  and  the  patient  has  no  home  but  a 
hovel,  and  no  bed  but  a  pallet  of  straw,  and  no 
accommodations  of  any  kind  but  such  as  acci- 
dental charity  may  have  brought  to  him — be 
assured  that  sickness  in  these  circumstances 
becomes  quite  another  thing ;  and  sympathy  for 
such  a  sufferer,  it  would  seem  the  most  insensible 
heart  could  not  suppress.  I  counsel  you,  instead 
of  avoiding  such  scenes,  because  they  are  painful 
or  disgusting,  to  turn  in  at  such  a  dwelling  as 
often  as  your  circumstances  will  permit.  Be  not 
afraid  to  stand  by  the  bed  side  of  the  sick  and  the 
dying,  though  every  thing  may  tell  of  the  most 
squalid  poverty  and  the  deepest  degradation. 
Stand  there,  if  it  may  not  be  as  a  comforter  to 
the  body,  at  least  as  a  guide  and  counsellor  to 
the  spirit.  Bring  remedies  and  corriforts  to  the 
sick  man,  if  you  can;  and  if  God  raises  him  up, 
he  will  bless  you  for  your  generous  remembrance 
of  him  in  the  time  of  his  need ;  and  if  he  have 
been  hitherto  a  neglecter  of  his  immortal  interests, 
you  will  be  able  the  more  easily  to  gain  his  ear 
in  speaking  to  him  concerning  them.  Or  if  he 
should  die,  who  can  tell  but  that  what  you  say  to 
him  on  his  death  bed,  may  be  the  means,  by  God's 

10* 


162  SYMPATHY. 

blessing,  of  fitting  him  for  Heaven  —  but  that  youT 
kind  and  christian  counsels  to  his  family,  together 
with  your  earnest  prayers  in  their  behalf,  may 
lead  them  to  seek  and  find  the  consolations  of  the 
gospel  ? 

There  are  many  cases  of  spiritual  distress  also 
that  invite  your  sympathy.  The  careless  world, 
I  know,  make  but  little  account  of  these  cases ; 
and  yet  they  who  have  had  experience  know  that 
there  is  no  suffering  on  earth  so  bitter  as  that 
which  they  involve.  The  sinner  awakened  from 
his  dreams  of  carelessness  to  a  sense  of  his  rela- 
tions to  God  as  his  Lawgiver  and  Judge,  is  not 
unfrequently,  for  a  long  time,  subject  to  the  most 
tormenting  reflections;  the  remembrance  of  his 
sins,  of  which  he  once  thought  nothing,  haunts 
him  by  day  and  by  night ;  remorse  becomes  a 
settled  resident  in  his  bosom  ;  and  sometimes 
despair  —  absolute  despair,  throws  her  deep 
shadows  around  him.  And  then  again,  there  are 
cases  in  which  professing  Christians,  owing 
perhaps  to  some  delinquency  or  some  infirmity, 
come  to  believe  that  theirs  has  been  a  spurious 
religious  experience ;  and,  in  the  strength  of  this 
conviction,  they   are    for  a  long   time    buried  in 


SYMPATHY.  163 

spiritual  gloom.  If  you  are  not  a  true  Christian 
yourself,  such  cases  as  these  will  be  little  likely 
to  awaken  your  sympathy,  because  the  distress 
which  belongs  to  them  not  only  lies  without  the 
circle  of  your  experience,  but  cannot  be  adequately 
appreciated  by  you ;  but  if  you  have  been  the 
subject  of  a  spiritual  renovation,  you  cannot  be 
brought  in  contact  with  persons  in  these  circum- 
stances without  feeling  for  them  deeply ;  and 
your  sympathy  will  naturally  discover  itself  in  an 
effort  for  their  relief  You  will  direct  them  to 
the  fountain  of  grace  and  comfort  that  is  set  open 
in  the  gospel.  You  will  set  forth  distinctly  and 
fully  the  terms  on  which  the  blessings  of  salva 
tion  are  offered.  You  will  endeavour  to  correct 
mistakes,  to  solve  difficulties,  to  do  every  thing 
that  you  can,  to  bring  the  darkened  mind,  writing 
bitter  things  against  itself,  in  contact  with  the 
glorious  promises.  And  you  have  every  reason 
to  hope  that  your  sympathy  thus  expressed  in  a 
well-directed  labour  of  love,  will  avail  even  to  the 
most  important  purposes — to  bring  the  awakened 
sinner  to  the  cross  of  Christ,  and  lead  the  despond- 
ing Christian  to  rejoice  again  in  the  evidence  of 
the  divine  favour. 


164  SYMPATHY. 

There  is,  moreover,  a  wide  field  for  your  sympa- 
thy in  the  condition  of  the  careless  and  ungodly 
world  —  of  the  multitude  around  you,  some  of 
whom  are  sunk  in  ignorance  and  vice  —  the 
slaves  of  sensuality  and  the  dupes  of  a  false 
religion,  and  others  are  decent  respecters  of 
Christian  institutions,  but  neglecters  of  the  great 
salvation.  And  then  there  are  the  hundreds  of 
millions,  who  have  been  born  and  educated  under 
Pagan  and  Mohamedan  influences ;  who  are 
hastening  to  the  close  of  life,  ignorant  of  life's 
great  end,  and  seeing  nothing  before  them  but  an 
impenetrable  darkness.  With  all  these,  if  you  are 
a  true  Christian,  you  must  feel  a  lively  sympathy ; 
and  that  sympathy  may  find  expression,  sometimes 
in  your  personal  counsels  and  expostulations,  and 
sometimes  in  your  pecuniary  contributions  and 
prayers.  That  professing  Christian  who  keeps  his 
hand  clenched  against  the  claims  of  those  whom 
his  voice  cannot  reach,  who  is  willing  occasion- 
ally to  drop  a  word  of  advice  upon  the  ear,  but 
is  never  found  dropping  his  contribution  into  the 
charity  box,  had  better  examine  his  sympathy, 
lest  it  should  prove  to  be  that  which  meets  the 


SYMPATHY.  IbO 

sufferer's  application   with   the   answer,  "  Be   ye 
warmed  and  be  ye  clothed,  depart  in  peace." 

I  will  only  add,  that  the  sufferings  of  the 
oppressed,  present  a  claim  upon  your  sympathy — 
I  mean  especially,  the  oppressed  in  our  own 
happy,  yet  dishonoured  country.  Let  no  man 
tell  me  that  the  slave  who  has  nothing  that  he 
can  call  his  own — not  even  his  wife  and  children 
— no,  nor  yet  himself,  is  after  all  not  an  object 
to  be  pitied.  If  the  poor  creature  who  says  this, 
will  consent  to  change  places  with  him,  then  we 
will  believe  that  he  is  himself  rather  to  be  pitied 
as  a  fool,  than  abhorred  as  a  knave.  But  the 
truth  is,  no  man  in  the  exercise  of  sober  reason 
ever  believed  this.  Slavery  is  an  evil,  the  depth 
of  which  there  is  no  line  to  measure.  Its  subject 
is  robbed  of  the  rights  which  God  has  given  him 
—  the  right  even  to  be  a  man.  I  have  no  sympa- 
thy with  the  violent  and  denunciatory  spirit  on 
this  subject  that  has  of  late  years  been  going  forth 
through  the  land,  not  only  because  it  is  wrong  in 
itself,  but  because  its  tendency  manifestly  is  to 
retard  and  embarrass  the  cause  of  emancipation. 
The  whole  subject  is  certainly  encompassed  with 
great    difficulties,  and    involves   complicated    and 


166  FORGIVENESS    OF   INJURIES. 

delicate  relations  which  must  not  be  overlooked ; 
but,  instead  of  yielding  to  these  difliculties,  we 
are  bound  to  rise  with  the  magnitude  of  the 
occasion,  and  urge  to  some  effective,  and,  if  possi- 
ble, speedy,  measures,  by  which  we  may  cancel 
this  debt  which  we  owe,  as  a  nation,  to  justice 
and  humanity.  I  counsel  you  not  to  repress,  but 
to  cultivate  your  sympathy  for  the  poor  slave ; 
and  if  you  do  not  live  to  see  his  chain  broken, 
be  able  at  least  to  reflect,  when  you  die,  that  you 
have  borne  testimony  against  the  reproach,  and 
that  whatsoever  your  hand  found  to  do,  you  have 
done,  for  wiping  it  away. 


LETTER  XIII. 

FORGIVENESS    OF    INJURIES. 

Never,  perhaps,  was  there  an  individual  who 
had  deeper  injuries  to  forgive,  and  never  one  who 
forgave  more  cordially  and  promptly,  than  Joseph. 
As   the   facts   which   illustrate   this   trait  in    his 


FORGIVENESS   OF   INJURIES.  167 

character  are  interwoven  with  his  whole  history, 
and  as  I  shall  have  occasion  to  advert  to  them 
somewhat  in  detail  as  I  pass  along,  I  shall  not, 
at  this  point,  attempt  any  thing  like  a  connected 
view  of  them.  The  injurious  treatment  which 
Joseph  received,  has  been  brought  to  your  consid- 
eration in  a  preceding  letter ;  and,  in  connection 
with  it,  the  dangers  to  which  all  young  men  are 
exposed,  who  are  placed  in  similar  circumstances. 
My  design  now  is,  to  illustrate  the  noble  spirit 
of  forgiveness  which  Joseph  evinced  towards  those 
who  persecuted  him,  as  an  example  for  you  amidst 
the  provocations  and  insults  which  you  may  pro- 
bably have  to  encounter. 

Forgiveness  is  nothing  more  than  the  spirit  of 
benevolence  acting  itself  out  in  an  appropriate 
manner  towards  one  who  has  intentionally  injured 
you.  Suppose  an  individual  —  be  it  that  it  is  one 
of  your  own  companions — has  wantonly  and 
malignantly  assailed  your  character,  or  injured 
your  property,  or  deprived  you  of  some  legitimate 
right — what  course,  under  these  circumstances, 
are  you  to  adopt  in  respect  to  him?  Doubtless,  if 
you  take  counsel  of  the  evil  propensities  of  your 
nature,  or  the  corrupt  maxims   of  the  world,  you 


168  FORGIVENESS    OF   INJURIES. 

will  set  yourself  to  devise  some  effective  mode  of 
retaliation.  But  if  you  yield  to  the  dictates  of 
an  enlightened  conscience,  or  if  you  consult  the 
teachings  of  the  Great  Master  as  recorded  in  his 
word,  you  will  adopt  a  very  different  course — 
you  will  not  only  suppress  a  malevolent  spirit, 
but  you  will  call  into  exercise  a  benevolent  one : 
you  will  turn  away  from  all  those  considerations 
which  arc  fitted  to  wound  and  exasperate,  and 
keep  in  your  eye  those  only  which  are  adapted  to 
preserve  or  restore  the  calmness  of  your  mind,  and 
to  favour  a  speedy  reconciliation. 

But  to  be  more  particular  —  you  are  to  inquire, 
in  the  first  place,  whether  you  have  not  given 
some  occasion  for  the  injury  that  has  been  done 
you ;  or,  if  you  are  conscious  of  innocent  inten- 
tions, whether  some  action  of  yours  may  not  have 
been  misconstrued,  and  whether  from  that  miscon- 
struction may  not  have  originated  the  injustice 
that  you  have  received.  In  the  former  case, 
your  duty  manifestly  is  to  confess — in  the 
latter,  to  explain ;  and  if  you  suffer  carelessness, 
or  an  imagined  self  respect,  or  any  thing  else,  to 
prevent  you  from  doing  this  at  the  very  earliest 
moment,  you  are,  in  a  measure  at  least,  responsi- 


FORGIVENESS    OF   INJURIES.  169 

ole  for  the  injury  of  which  you  complain.  If  you 
have  really  been  the  aggressor  in  any  degree,  or 
have  given  the  semblance  of  provocation  for  the 
alTront  you  have  received,  —  so  far  regard  your- 
self as  the  offender ;  and  do  not  shrink  from  the 
most  frank  and  manly  reparation.  Or,  if  you  have 
been  suspected  of  something  of  which  you  were 
innocent,  you  are  bound,  if  you  can,  to  furnish 
to  the  individual,  evidence  of  your  innocence,  that 
he  may  see  there  was  no  just  ground  for  the  evil 
he  had  done  you.  Having  done  this,  you  have 
done  all  in  the  character  of  an  offender  or  a 
supposed  offender,  which,  at  this  point,  either 
justice  or  charity  demands  of  you. 

But,  let  us  consider  your  attitude  now  as 
changed,  and  inquire  whether  you  have  any  duty 
to  perform  towards  an  enemy  beyond  the  point 
which  we  have  reached — in  other  words,  suppos- 
ing you  have  made  every  apology  and  explanation 
that  could  be  required  of  you,  —  are  you  absolved 
from  all  farther  obligation  in  respect  to  the 
offending  individual  ?  I  answer,  by  no  means. 
You  may  have  done  every  thing  that  you  can 
directly  to  bring  about  a  reconciliation ;  but 
there  may  be  indirect  means  which  it  is  in  your 


170  FORGIVENESS    OF    INJURIES. 

power  to  use,  which  may  not  improbably  prove 
effectual  when  the  others  have  failed.  You  may, 
for  instance,  in  your  casual  meetings  with  the 
individual  in  social  life,  or  even  in  the  street, 
make  it  manifest  by  your  manner  that  you  are 
cherishing  towards  him  no  ill  will,  and  that  it  is 
not  your  own  fault  that  the  alienation  is  continued. 
You  may  sometimes  accomplish  much  through 
the  interposition  of  some  friend  whose  general 
opinion  he  respects,  and  who,  he  would  not  be 
likely  to  suppose,  could  be  influenced  by  any 
undue  regard  to  your  interests.  You  should 
watch  for  opportunities  of  doing  him  good, 
where  you  can,  without  the  appearance  of  being 
obtrusive,  as  if  you  would  make  a  display  of  your 
magnanimity ;  and  especially  you  should  avail 
yourself  of  such  opportunities  as  may  occur  when 
he  is  in  affliction ;  for  the  heart  is  never  so 
sensible  to  favours,  as  when  smitten  by  the  rod 
of  God  ;  and  a  revengeful  spirit  is  never  so  easily 
dislodged  by  kindness,  as  when  that  kindness  is 
delicately  manifested  to  assuage  the  current  of 
grief  You  should  keep  an  eye  out  to  observe 
the  least  indication  of  a  willingness  to  be  recon- 
ciled ;  and  you  should  promptly  avail  yourself  of 


FORGIVENESS    OF   INJURIES.  171 

it  to  institute  the  most  effective  measures  for 
consummating  the  desired  object.  You  should 
not  be  strict  to  require  the  most  exact  reparation 
for  the  injury  you  have  received  ;  but  should 
show  yourself  willing  to  accept  even  what  you 
may  deem  but  a  partial  reparation ;  and  if  the 
individual,  from  pride  or  any  other  cause,  refuses 
to  make  any  reparation  at  all,  other  than  is 
involved  in  a  disposition  to  return  to  the  mutual 
interchange  of  friendly  feelings  and  good  offices 
• — though  this  certainly  would  not  be  so  satisfac- 
tory as  could  be  desired,  yet  it  would  be  your 
wisdom  to  accept  even  of  this,  and  let  the  rest 
be  an  account  for  him  to  settle  with  his  own 
conscience.  But  suppose  all  your  efforts  to  bring 
about  a  reconciliation  prove  futile,  and  after  the 
utmost  you  can  do,  you  can  find  no  access  to  his 
heart,  and  he  shows  himself  determined  to  hold 
no  other  than  a  hostile  attitude  towards  you — 
why  then  nothing  remains  for  you  but  to  keep 
your  heart  with  all  diligence  in  relation  to  him, 
and  obey  that  injunction  of  the  Saviour  from  which 
no  possible  circumstances  can  ever  absolve  you, 
— "  Love  your   enemies,   bless  them  that   curse 


172  FORGIVENESS    OF   INJURIES. 

you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for 
them  that  despitefuUy  use  you  and  persecute  you." 

There  are  several  mistakes  into  which  you  are 
liable  to  fall  in  relation  to  the  general  subject  of 
forgiveness  of  injuries,  which  the  contemplation 
of  Joseph's  example  will  be  likely  to  prevent. 
Let  me  call  your  attention  to  two  or  three  of 
them. 

You  may  be  liable  to  take  up  the  opinion  that 
while  the  smaller  injuries  to  which  you  are 
exposed  may  well  enough  be  met  with  a  forgiving 
spirit,  there  are  some  injuries  that  are  too  great  to 
be  forgiven,  and  which  no  one  can  forgive  in 
consistency  with  suitable  self  respect.  But  who, 
let  me  ask,  ever  experienced  greater  injuries  than 
Joseph  ?  His  brethren  had  no  ground  of  accusa- 
tion against  him  —  he  seems  to  have  been  entirely 
an  amiable,  gentle,  unassuming  youth  ;  and  even 
when  he  was  seized,  he  was  out  upon  an  errand 
that  showed"  the  kindness  of  his  heart.  What 
they  first  intended  to  do  was  to  put  him  to  death, 
outright;  and  then  the  expedient  of  throwing 
him  into  the  pit  was  thought  of;  and  finally  ihey 
formed  and  executed  the  horrible  purpose  of 
gelling  him  as  a  slave,  with  no  other  expectation 


FORGIVENESS    OF   INJURIES.  173 

than  that  he  would  never  behold  the  faces  of  any 
of  his  kindred  again,  and  that,  henceforth,  till 
death  should  come  to  his  release,  he  would  always 
be  subject  to  the  will  of  some  cruel  taskmaster. 
Conceive,  if  you  can,  of  injury  more  deep,  more 
bitter,  than  %vas  here  inflicted ;  and  yet  it  was 
not  too  great  for  the  amiable  Joseph  to  forgive. 
When,  years  after  this,  he  met  his  brethren  in 
Egypt,  and  those  melting  scenes  which  the  history 
relates,  occurred, —  though  Joseph  fully  appre- 
ciated the  extent  of  the  injury,  and  had  all  the 
cruel  looks  and  words  and  actions  which  had 
been  directed  against  him,  treasured  up  in  his 
memory,  yet  he  forgave  every  thing :  he  met  the 
offenders — great  offenders  as  they  were — in  the 
spirit  of  a  generous  reconciliation.  And  so,  my 
young  friends,  ought  it  ever  to  be  with  you.  No 
matter  what  may  be  the  wrong  that  has  been 
done  you,  you  have  no  right  to  cherish  a  malevo- 
lent or  unforgiving  spirit  for  a  moment.  Doe>" 
Joseph's  character  seem  less  attractive  to  you  fo 
his  having  forgiven  his  brethren  even  the  sin  oi 
fratricide  toward  him?  Rather,  is  it  not  the 
greatness  of  the  injury  that  throws  such  superla- 
tive  lustre   around   the    forgiving   act?      Imitate 


174  FORGIVENESS    OF   INJURIES. 

Joseph  in  forgiving  great  injuries ;  and  if  there 
are  those  who  sneer  at  this  as  indicating  lameness 
or  servility,  you  will  have  nothing  to  fear ;  for  it 
is  a  light  thing  to  bear  the  sneers,  either  of  base 
hypocrites  or  of  miserable  fools. 

It  was  an  aggravating  circumstance  in  the  case 
of  Joseph,  that  the  injuries  which  he  received 
were  from  his  own  brethren — children  of  the 
same  father — the  nearest  relatives  that  he  had  on 
earth.  You  may  observe,  as  a  general  rule,  that 
quarrels  in  families  are  the  bitterest  quarrels  that 
ever  occur ;  and  where  two  brothers  become 
alienated  from  each  other — no  matter  from  what 
cause — reconciliation  becomes  exceedingly  diffi- 
cult, if  not  absolutely  hopeless.  It  would  seem 
that,  where  an  alienation  is  once  effected  in  such 
a  case,  its  intensity  is  generally  proportioned  to 
the  strength  of  the  affection  which  it  has  displaced. 
It  may  result  from  various  causes ;  but  probably 
it  originates  more  frequently  in  the  distribution 
of  the  parental  inheritance  than  any  thing  else. 
Let  those  who  sustain  to  each  other  this  endearing 
relation,  be  careful  that  it  never  becomes  poisoned 
by  dissension  and  crimination.  Rather  submit  in 
silence  to   what  you  may  deem  great  injustice, 


FORGIVENESS    OF    INJURIES.  175 

than  run  the  hazard  of  opening  a  domestic 
quarrel.  Or,  if  you  are  so  unhappy  as  to  be 
ah'eady  engaged  in  one,  resolve,  before  reading 
another  sentence  of  this  letter,  that  you  will 
instantly  drop  it.  It  is  at  too  great  expense 
that  you  quarrel  with  your  own  brother.  Let 
the  breach  be  continued  a  little  longer,  and  it 
may  be  impossible  ever  to  repair  it ;  and  you 
may  be  obliged  to  carry  with  you  to  the  grave 
the  reflection  that  he  who  should  have  been  a 
chief  mourner  at  your  funeral,  if  he  is  there  at 
all,  will  be  there  only  as  a  matter  of  decency  and 
constraint. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  that  Joseph  forgave  his 
brethren,  when  he  had  them  entirely  in  his  power 
— just  as  entirely  as  they  had  him,  when  they 
inflicted  the  injury.  However  weak  and  defence- 
less he  was  when  they  met  him  at  Dothan,  he 
was  surrounded  with  the  insignia  of  office  when 
they  found  him  in  Egypt — the  little  unprotected 
boy  had  become  the  governour  of  the  land ;  and 
he  could  do  with  them  whatsoever  he  listed 
without  being  called  in  question  for  any  course 
that  he  might  adopt.  He  might  have  banished 
them   instantly   from  his  dominion,  or  he  might 


176  rORGIVENESS    OF    INJURIES. 

have  consigned  them  to  perpetual  imprisonment, 
or  he  might  have  served  them  as  the  poor  baker 
was  served,  whose  dream  he  had  occasion  to 
interpret  ;  but,  instead  of  adopting  any  such 
rigorous  and  retaliatory  measures,  he  freely 
forgave  them  the  injury.  Perhaps,  in  certain 
cases,  where  you  consider  yourself  aggrieved, 
you  will  seem  ready  enough  to  forgive — particu- 
larly in  cases  where  the  offender  may  be  useful 
to  you,  and  you  can  anticipate  no  advantage 
from  persisting  in  your  resentment; — but  are 
you  equally  disposed  to  reconciliation,  Avhere  you 
have  him  entirely  in  your  power,  and  can  do  him 
a  serious  injury,  perhaps  without  incurring  the 
odium  of  it  before  the  world  ?  While  a  case  of 
this  kind  involves  great  temptation  to  cultivate 
an  implacable  spirit,  it  furnishes  a  fine  opportunity 
to  display  a  magnanimous  one.  If  you  forgive 
only  where  your  own  personal  interest  would 
manifestly  be  promoted  by  it,  and  where  you 
have  little  or  no  power  to  inflict  an  injury,  it  may 
be  worth  while  for  you  to  inquire  whether  you 
have  really  exercised  the  forgiving  spirit  at  all. 
If  your  enemy  is  in  your  power,  let  him  feel,  so 
far  as  any  act  of  injustice  is  concerned,  that  he  is 


FORGIVENESS    OF    INJURIES.  177 

safe  in  your  power.  Never  take  any  advantage 
in  respect  to  him.  that  you  would  not  feel  justified 
in  taking,  if  he  were  your  friend.  It  is  not  only 
unjust,  but  mean  and  cowardly,  to  do  him  an 
injury,  because  you  can  do  it — perhaps  without 
detection. 

Joseph  manifested  a  forgiving  spirit  by  a 
corresponding  course  of  action.  He  ultimately 
took  from  his  brethren  every  ground  of  suspicion 
in  regard  to  his  sincerity,  by  performing  towards 
them  a  succession  of  the  most  fraternal  and 
generous  acts.  He  not  only  relieved  their  imme- 
diate necessities,  but  made  provision  for  their 
permanent  subsistence  in  circumstances  in  every 
way  the  most  agreeable  to  them.  Here  again,  I 
commend  him  to  you  as  a  model.  I  have  known 
cases,  not  a  kw^  in  which  individuals  have 
deceived  themselves  in  supposing  that  they  had 
forgiven  an  enemy,  when  they  had  reached  the 
point  of  being  willing  not  to  attempt  to  injure 
him —  willing  to  let  him  alone  ;  and  yet  I  have 
generally  remarked  that,  where  this  negative 
course  was  professed,  a  more  positive  course  was 
practised  ;  and  that,  on  some  occasions  at  least, 
the  individual  supposed  to  be  forgiven,  would  be 
12 


178  FORGIVENESS    OF    INJURIES. 

the  object,  if  not  of  direct  attacks,  yet  of  offensive 
anusions.  The  truth  is,  you  utterly  mistake,  if 
you  imagine  that  you  have  forgiven  an  enemy 
wnen  you  have  only  got  so  far  as  to  pass  him  in 
silence  and  neglect.  You  must  be  able  to  meet 
hmi  with  feelings  and  demonstrations  of  good 
will.  And  the  more  decisive  these  demonstra- 
tions are,  the  better — the  better  for  him  —  the 
better  for  yourself.  If,  after  a  professed  recon- 
ciliation, your  conduct  toAvards  him  savours  of 
shyness,  and  is  at  best  of  an  equivocal  character, 
he  will  have  no  confidence  in  your  professions, 
and  you  will  have  no  comfort  in  his  society  ;  and 
you  will  both  probably  settle  down  with  the 
conviction  that,  though  you  have  gone  through 
the  form  of  reconciliation,  the  old  grudge  holds 
good.  But  if,  on  the  contrary,  you  meet  him  in 
the  spirit  of  good  will  and  generosity,  and  espe- 
cially, if  you  avail  yourself  of  the  firet  opportunity 
to  show  him  some  substantial  act  of  kindness,  he 
will  give  you  full  credit  for  sincerity,  and  will 
probably  meet  you  with  a  corresponding  spirit, 
and  thus  a  real  and  permanent  reconciliation  will 
be  secured.  It  is  really  one  of  the  noblest  attri- 
butes of  a  noble  soul,  to  be  able  to  render  good 


FORGIVENESS    OF    INJURIES.  179 

for  evil — especially  to  confer  great  benefits  upon 
one  from  whom  great  injuries  have  been  received. 
Joseph  forgave  his  brethren  in  a  way  that  was 
fitted  to  exert  the  happiest  influence  upon  theii 
tempers.  He  might  indeed,  as  soon  as  they 
appeared  before  him  in  Egypt,  and  he  recognized 
them  as  the  brethren  who  had  sold  him  as  a  slave 
—  he  might  have  revealed  to  them  at  once  the 
astounding  fact  that  he  was  their  brother,  and 
have  given  them  free  and  immediate  access  to  a 
brother's  heart.  But,  though  his  first  feelings 
might  have  prompted  to  this,  it  instantly  occurred 
to  him  that  those  brethren  had  committed  a  great 
offence,  not  only  against  himself,  but  against  their 
father,  and  against  God :  and  that  it  was  fitting 
that  they  should  be  made  sensible  of  it,  and 
should  be  brought  to  contemplate  it  with  a  truly 
repentant  spirit.  And  with  a  view  to  secure  this 
end,  and  not  because  he  desired  to  see  them  even 
temporarily  unhappy,  he  instituted  that  singular 
course  of  measures  by  which  they  were  so  severely 
tried,  up  to  the  time  that  he  made  himself  known 
to  them.  Their  being  imprisoned  as  spies,  Simeon 
being  detained  as  an  hostage,  the  affair  of  the 
silver  cup,  and  that  whole  series  of  events,  which 


180  FORGIVENESS    OF   INJURIES. 

kept  them  so  long  in  anxiety  and  distress,  and 
sometimes  even  consternation,  were  designed  — 
fraternally  and  mercifully  designed,  to  make 
them  hearty  penitents  in  view  of  their  misconduct, 
and  to  prepare  them  for  the  blessings  which  were 
yet  in  store  for  them.  And  the  desired  effect 
was  produced  —  conscience  was  stirred  up  to  do 
its  office;  and  in  the  fearful  punishment  which 
they  apprehended,  as  well  as  in  the  extremity  to 
which  they  were  actually  brought,  they  saw  the 
enormity  of  the  crime  of  which  they  had  been 
guilty.  And  in  this  respect  also  Joseph  is  an 
example  for  you.  It  is  one  important  part 
of  the  duty  you  owe  to  the  person  who  has 
injured  you,  to  make  him  sensible,  if  possible,  of 
the  evil  of  his  conduct,  and  lead  him  to  cultivate 
such  a  temper  that  he  shall  at  once  be  worthy  of 
your  forgiveness,  and  able  rightly  to  appreciate  it, 
and  suitably  to  profit  by  it. 

The  considerations  which  urge  you  to  the  culti- 
vation of  a  forgiving  spirit,  I  shall  only  hint  at  in 
a  single  word.  It  is  in  itself  one  of  the  noblest 
exercises  of  a  virtuous  temper,  and  one  of  the 
greatest  triumphs  over  a  corrupt  and  grovelling 
selfishness.     It  blesses  both  him  who  forgives  and 


FILIAL    REGARD.  181 

him  who  is  forgiven,  and  operates  like  a  charm 
to  allay  the  withering  strifes  of  society.  It  is 
one  of  the  prescribed  conditions  on  which  we 
may  hope  for  the  forgiveness  of  our  offences 
here,  and  our  open  acquittal  at  the  judgment. 
It  is  the  spirit  which  animated  the  Saviour  of  the 
world;  —  which  manifested  itself  in  his  doctrines 
and  precepts  and  example,  and  which  breathed 
in  all  its  fulness  and  vigour  amidst  the  scenes  of 
Calvary.  Ponder  each  of  these  considerations 
till  it  shall  have  exerted  its  full  influence  upon 
you  ;  and  like  Joseph,  and  like  a  greater  than 
Joseph,  ever  exemplify  the  forgiving  spirit. 


LETTER  XIV. 


FILIAL   REGARD. 


I  DESIGN,  in  this  letter,  to  address  you  in  respect  tO' 
the  feelmgs  and  conduct  appropriate  to  the  filial' 
relation.  It  might  seem  as  if  nature  herself  had 
made  such  provision  for  the  development  of  the  filial 


182  FILIAI.    REGARD. 

principle,  that  little  need  be  said  to  give  it  the  right 
direction,  or  secure  its  legitimate  end  ;  and  yet  the 
fact  turns  out  to  be,  that  there  is  scarcely  a  principle 
belonging  to  our  constitution,  that  requires  more 
vigilant  attention,  or  more  careful  culture,  than  this. 
I  fear  that  truth  constrains  to  the  acknowledgment 
that  the  period  on  which  you  have  fallen,  is  distin- 
guished above  any  preceding  period  in  modern 
times,  for  the  want  of  filial  respect ;  and  happy 
indeed  shall  I  be,  if,  by  holding  up  Joseph  before 
you  as  a  model,  I  shall  succeed  in  reviving  in  your 
minds  the  ancient  spirit  of  reverence  towards 
parents,  and  of  leading  you  to  feel  that,  if  jrou 
will  be  true  to  one  of  the  noblest  instincts  of  your 
nature,  you  must  honour  your  father  and  your 
mother. 

I  had  occasion  to  remark  to  you  in  the 
preceding  letter  that  Joseph's  forgiving  spirit  had 
impressed  itself  upon  his  whole  history ;  and  the 
same  is  true  of  his  filial  regard  —  it  is  so  inter- 
woven with  all  the  important  events  of  his  life, 
that  an  attempt  to  separate  it  from  them,  would  be 
nothing  less  than  an  attempt  completely  to  falsify 
the  narrative.  Joseph  was  too  yo"ng  when  his 
mother  died,  to  know  the  strength  of  maternal 


FILIAL    REGARD.  183 

love  or  the  value  of  maternal  care ;  but  towards 
his  father,  who  lived  till  after  the  son  had  reached 
his  maturity,  he  showed  himself  one  of  the  most 
perfect  models  in  the  filial  relation  that  history  can 
furnish. 

The  earliest  development  of  the  filial  principle 
that  comes  within  our  knowledge  is  affection  :  the 
very  first  exercises  of  feeling  vi^hich  the  child 
discovers,  that  are  in  any  d,  gree  independent  of 
its  physical  nature  —  certainly  the  first  feelings 
of  an  amiable  character,  may  be  read  in  the 
tenacity  with  which  it  clings  to  its  mother,  and 
in  the  smile  into  which  a  mother's  love  works  its 
infantile  features.  And,  doubtless,  the  feeling  of 
aflTection  towards  both  parents,  has  the  precedence, 
in  the  order  of  nature,  above  any  other.  Joseph, 
from  his  earliest  years,  evidently  manifested 
toward  his  father  a  devoted  attachment  ;  and 
probably  the  great  strength  of  his  filial  affection 
was  one  circumstance  that  made  him  so  much  an 
object  of  parental  partiality,  and  was  finally  the 
occasion  of  bringing  upon  him  such  severe  trials. 
But  it  was  in  his  later  years  that  his  affection 
had  an  opportunity  to  manifest  itself  in  the  most 
decided   demonstrations.     Notice    the  affectionate 


184  FILIAL    REGARD. 

inquiry  which  he  made  of  his  brethren  concerning 
their  father's  health,  while  yet  they  had  not  begun 
to  suspect  that  their  father  was  also  his.  Notice 
the  charge  Avhich  he  gave  them  to  bring  their 
father  —  the  old  man,  down,  that  he  might  set 
eyes  upon  him.  And  after  he  had  revealed  to 
them  the  secret  that  he  Avas  Joseph,  observe  that 
the  very  first  question  which  he  asked  them  was, 
"Doth  my  father  yet  live?"  —  and  forthwith  he 
renews  with  still  greater  earnestness  the  charge 
which  he  had  previously  given  — "  Haste  you, 
and  go  up  to  my  father,  and  say  unto  him,  thus 
saith  thy  son  Joseph,  God  hath  made  me  lord  of 
all  Egypt :  come  down  unto  me  —  tarry  not." 
And  above  all,  notice  the  account  of  the  first 
meeting  between  him  and  his  father  in  the  land 
of  Goshen,  and  see  him  dissolved  in  tears,  hanging 
upon  his  father's  neck ;  and  say  whether  you  can 
imagine  a  scene  in  which  the  very  sublimity  of 
filial  affection  should  be  more  strikingly  mani- 
fested. And  then  you  remember  what  provision 
he  made  for  his  father's  comfort;  —  how  carefully 
and  tenderly  he  watched  over  his  old  age ;  how 
he  hastened  to  his  dying  bed  to  minister  to  his 
last  wants  and  receive  his  final  blessing;  —  how, 


FILIAL    REGARD.  185 

even  after  the  patriarch  had  yielded  up  the  ghost, 
the  dutiful,  affectionate  son  still  "  fell  upon  his 
father's  face,  and  wept  upon  him,  and  kissed 
him;"  and  how,  finally,  after  a  public  lamenta- 
tion had  been  made  for  him,  he  obeyed  his  dying 
command  in  having  him  removed  for  burial  to 
the  spot  which  he  had  designated  in  the  land  of 
Canaan.  You  see  that  Joseph's  affection  for  his 
father  was  far  enough  from  being  an  inactive 
principle:  it  discovered  itself  in  every  act  of 
obedience  and  kindness  which  his  own  ability 
permitted,  or  his  father's  necessities  required. 

Joseph,  you  perceive,  treated  his  father  with 
the  greatest  respect  and  reverence.  And  this 
was  not  a  constrained  feeling — it  was  the  legit- 
imate working  of  that  strong  filial  affection, 
which  was  inwrought  among  the  deepest  sensi- 
bilities  of  his  nature.  But  this  is  nothing  more 
than  is  due  to  the  parental  relation.  You  are  to 
reverence  your  parents  as  those  whom  Providence 
has  constituted  your  superiors  and  guardians : 
and  you  are  to  give  expression  to  this  spirit  by 
every  appropriate  means.  Especially,  you  should 
beware  that  you  do  not  pervert  the  affectionate 
familiarity    to    which    tliey    may   admit   vou,   to 


186  FILIAL    RKGARD. 

purposes  of  disrespect :  j-ou  should  not  too  hastily 
call  in  question  their  opinions,  and  if  3'ou  have 
occasion  to  dissent  from  them,  should  do  it  in 
a  spirit  of  becoming  modesty:  you  should  not 
show  yourself  disposed  to  monopolize  or  direct 
the  conversation  in  which  they  are  taking  a  part, 
but  should  rather  give  place  to  theiTi,  and 
remember  that,  on  such  occasions  especially,  one 
important  part  of  your  duty  is  to  listen — in 
short,  you  should  let  it  appear,  on  every  occasion, 
both  in  publick  and  private,  that  you  cherish 
toward  them  a  profound  respect,  and  that  you 
are  ready  to  defer  to  them  in  every  thing  that 
shall  not  interfere  with  the  sober  convictions  of 
your  judgment  and  conscience. 

I  am  aware  that  there  are  cases  to  which  these 
remarks,  in  all  their  extent,  cannot  apply ;  for, 
unhappily,  there  are  some  children  who  have 
parents  whose  characters  are  such  as  to  forbid 
and  repel  even  filial  respect.  The  child  who 
sees  his  father  fall  down  drunk,  and  hears  him 
deal  out  vulgarity  and  blasphemy,  and  dreads 
his  return  home,  lest  it  should  be  the  harbinger 
of  a  night  of  terror  and  weeping  to  his  mother, 
cannot,  ought  not,  to  reverence  that  father,  as  if 


FILIAL    REGARD.  187 

he  were  a  pattern  of  the  domestick  virtues.  StiJl, 
however,  even  in  this  case,  there  is  something 
due  to  the  parental  relation.  It  is,  to  say  the 
least,  exceedingly  offensive  to  ail  good  taste,  and 
I  may  add,  contrary  to  the  dictates  of  nature,  for 
a  child  in  these  circumstances  to  seem  willing,  as 
is  sometimes  the  case,  to  expose  a  father's  vices. 
You  may  not  indeed  be  forbidden  in  all  circum- 
stances to  speak  of  them  —  that  may  sometimes  be 
necessary  ;  but  let  it  always  be  in  a  manner  that 
shall  show  that  you  have  not  forgotten  that  the 
offender  is  your  father,  and  that  you  earnestly 
desire  to  render  him  a  full  share  of  filial  respect. 
There  may  be  cases  in  which  it  is  proper  for  you, 
even  to  address  him  directly  in  regard  to  his  evil 
doings,  and  to  put  forth  a  vigorous  effort  to 
recover  him  to  virtue  and  usefulness.  But  this 
is  perhaps  the  most  delicate  office  which  a  child 
ever  has  to  perform ;  for,  in  this  case,  he  seems 
to  change  places  with  the  father;  and  however 
well  intended  and  well  performed  may  be  the 
duty  which  he  takes  upon  himself,  there  is  always 
danger  that  it  will  be  met  with  irritation  and 
disgust.  If  you  are  ever  providentially  called  to 
the    discharge   of    this    painful    duty   towards   a 


188  FILIAL    REGARD. 

parent,  be  careful  that  you  select  the  most 
favourable  time  —  a  time  when  his  mind  is  most 
free  from  unnatural  excitement  and  most  open  to 
conviction ;  and  if  you  can  select  some  moment 
when  he  is  suffering  immediately  the  effect  of  his 
vices,  or  when  some  calamitous  dispensation  hath 
overtaken  him.  that  will  probably  be  the  most 
favoured  moment  of  all.  And  let  there  be  every 
thing  in  your  manner  to  evince  that  you  approach 
the  duty  with  the  utmost  reluctance  and  pain, 
and  that  it  is  because  you  love  your  father  with 
strong  affection  that  you  cannot  look  upon  his 
ruin  and  remain  silent.  Let  what  you  say  be 
considerately  and  discreetly  weighed,  before  you 
say  it;  and,  in  ordinary  cases,  if  you  will  secure 
the  best  impression,  better  not  have  the  conver- 
sation a  very  protracted  one.  What  you  must 
rely  upon  chiefly,  under  the  blessing  of  Heaven, 
is  the  spirit  of  filial  affection  coming  out  in  such 
a  way  as  to  keep  down  resentment,  to  disarm 
parental  authority,  and  to  open  a  way  to  the 
heart  for  a  solemn,  affectionate,  earnest  expostu- 
lation. 

But  you  are  to   obey  your   parents   as   well  as 
reverence    them — indeed    you  cannot  reverence 


FILIAL    KEGARD.  189 

them  as  you  ought,  but  that  obedience  is  secured 
as  a  matter  of  .course.  Whatever  command 
Joseph  received  from  his  father,  he  obeyed 
cordially  and  promptly.  If  his  father  directed 
him,  when  a  child,  to  go  and  visit  his  brethren 
who  were  keeping  their  flocks,  he  went  without 
oflering  a  single  objection.  If  his  father  directed 
him,  when  governour  of  Egypt,  to  convey  his 
mortal  remains  back  to  the  land  of  Canaan  for 
burial,  here  again  there  was  no  time  lost  in  obey- 
ing this  command.  And  we  have  no  reason  to 
believe  that  his  father  ever  addressed  to  him  either 
a  command  or  a  request,  but  it  was  complied 
with  at  the  very  earliest  moment  possible.  What 
a  beautiful  exemplification  was  this  of  the  filial 
spirit  I 

My  young  friend  "  go  thou  and  do  likewise." 
But  remember  that  you  do  not  come  up  fully  to 
the  spirit  of  the  duty  that  is  here  required  of  you, 
merely  by  doing  sooner  or  later,  and  in  some 
way  or  other,  the  external  act,  which  parental 
authority  may  enjoin.  You  must  not  only  obey, 
but  you  must  obey  promptly.  Suppose  the  service 
required  of  you  be  not  exactly  that  which  is  most 
in  accordance   with  your  taste,  or  inclination,  or 


190  FILIAL    REGARD. 

even  judgment  —  I  do  not  say  that  you  are  not 
at  liberty,  in  such  a  case,  respectfully  to  state 
your  opinion,  or  offer  a  suggestion,  but  it  ill 
becomes  you  to  take  the  attitude  of  an  objector 
or  a  caviller,  and  virtually  tell  your  father  that 
you  must  at  least  have  an  argument  with  him, 
before  you  shall  do  the  thing  which  he  requires. 
As  a  general  rule,  the  intimation  of  a  parent's 
desire  should  be  enough  to  determine  your 
conduct;  and  none  but  a  parent  who  has  had 
experience,  can  know  how  great  is  the  difference 
between  that  obedience  which  is  thus  promptly 
and  cordially  rendered,  and  that  which  waits  for 
a  repetition  of  the  parental  mandate,  and  which 
after  all  is  of  a  constrained  and  stinted  character. 

You  will  anticipate  me  when  1  say  that,  as 
vicious  qualities  in  parents  are  not  to  be  reve- 
renced, so  neither  are  their  commands  to  do  evil, 
to  be  obeyed.  But  here  it  cften  becomes  an 
exceedingly  delicate  question  how  far  you  may 
go  in  what  may  seem  doubtful  compliances,  rather 
than  take  the  attitude  of  opposition  to  parental 
authority.  In  cases  of  this  kind,  you  must  judge 
by  the  best  lights  that  you  can  command  ;  and  it 
will   generally  be   discreet  in   you   to  refer  such 


FILIAL    REGARD.  191 

questions  to  some  maturer  wisdom  and  experience 
than  your  own.  But  when  the  thing  that  is 
required  of  you  is  manifestly  and  palpably  wrong, 
—  no  matter  by  what  considerations  it  may  be 
urged, — you  need  not  even  ask  yourself  the 
question  whether  you  shall  obey,  for  God  has 
already  settled  that  question  at  your  hands.  You 
must  not  even  connive  at  evil,  though  the  conse- 
quence should  be  that  you  are  cut  ofl^  from  the 
paternal  inheritance,  or  turned  out  of  the  paternal 
dwelling.  Such  extreme  cases,  however,  rarely 
occur  ;  and  even  when  a  parent  thus  perverts  his 
authority  by  requiring  at  the  hands  of  his  child 
what  cannot  be  rendered  in  consistency  with  a 
good  conscience,  the  child  will,  very  often  at  least, 
by  respectfully  stating  his  convictions  and  remon- 
strating against  the  thing  required  of  him,  relieve 
himself  from  the  alternative  of  either  violating  his 
conscience  or  disobeying  his  father. 

1  will  only  add  that  the  filial  spirit  properly 
brought  into  exercise,  will,  if  necessary,  and  if 
possible,  provide  for  the  comfort  of  parents  in 
the  decline  of  life.  It  was  worth  all  that  Joseph 
had  suffered  from  the  persecution  of  his  brethren, 
and  even  being  exiled   so  long  from   his  beloved 


192  FILIAL    KEGARD. 

father,  to  be  able  to  act  the  father  towards  him 
in  his  latter  years:  indeed,  for  the  pleasure  of 
that  one  meeting-  —  the  welcome,  the  embrace, 
the  paternal  benediction,  what  generous  minded 
son  would  not  stand  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice? 
Possibly  your  parents  may  have  been  unfortunate 
in  life ;  and,  after  having  supplied  your  enrly 
wants,  and  educated  you  to  some  useful  pursuit, 
they  may  have  themselves  become  poor ;  and 
now,  as  old  age  is  advancing  upon  them,  they 
may  be  without  the  means  of  procuring  even  the 
comforts  of  life.  If  you  have  a  spark  of  filial 
sensibility,  you  will  never  see  them  sufTer — you 
will  not  oblige  them  even  to  ask  your  aid  —  your 
generous  interposition  will  at  least  be  as  quick  as 
their  own  thoughts;  and  you  will  not  rest  till 
their  wants  are  provided  for,  even  though  your 
own  lot  may  not  rise  above  an  humble  mediocrity. 
But,  admitting  that  they  stand  in  no  need  of 
pecuniary  aid,  there  are  other  things  besides 
money  that  can  minister  to  the  comfort  of  old 
age.  Your  filial  attentions — your  frequent  visits, 
if  you  are  separated  from  them — your  delicate 
expressions  of  respect  and  veneration,  will  all 
operate  as  a  cordial   to  their  spirits ;  and   these 


FILIAL    REGARD.  193 

will  be  more  precious  to  them  than  any  comforts 
that  opulence  could  bring  within  their  reach. 
Especially  if  they  are  sick,  you  should  hasten, 
with  filial  tenderness,  to  their  bed'  side  ;  and  let 
them  see  that  you  are  vigilant  in  respect  to  every 
thing  that  can  promote  their  comfort ;  and  even, 
when  they  come  to  be  in  the  twilight  of  life,  let 
ihem  reflect,  if  it  may  be  so,  that  their  beloved 
children  are  among  the  last  objects  of  their 
mortal  vision.  I  can  hardly  forbear  e.nvying 
that  son  who  has  at  once  the  disposition  and  the 
opportunity  of  smoothing  the  path  of  his  aged 
parents  to  the  grave. 

I  had  intended  to  say  something  in  the  conclu- 
sion o-f  this  letter,  to  urge  to  the  cultivation  of 
this  spirit ;  but  it  so  obviously  appeals  to  whatever 
is  generous  and  noble  in  human  nature,  that  I  am 
willing  to  leave  the  whole  subject  with  you 
without  another  word.  I  will,  however,  just 
add,  that  the  absence  of  this  spirit  in  a  young 
man  marks  him  as  an  object  at  once  to  be  pitied 
and  to  be  avoided ;  and  that  its  existence  is 
regarded,  and  justly  regarded,  as  one  of  the  best 
pledges  of  a  virtuous  and  useful  character. 


194  DEPENDANCE    ON   GOD. 


LETTER  XV. 


DEPENDANCE    ON    GOD. 


Every  thing  that  has  been  said  in  the  preced- 
ing letters  has  taken  for  granted  that  Joseph 
was  a  truly  reh'gious  man.  You  have  seen  how 
his  most  ordinary  actions  were  evidently  dictated 
by  a  regard  to  principle  and  conscience ;  how 
sincerity  and  benevolence  breathed  in  all  his 
social  intercourse,  and  stern  integrity  marked 
every  step  of  his  course  as  a  man  of  business. 
But  I  design,  in  the  present  letter,  to  bring  him 
before  you  more  immediately  in  the  relations 
which  he  sustained  to  God  ;  or  rather  to  show 
you  how  the  sentiment  of  dependance  on  Go  1 
operated  as  the  controlling  principle  of  his  life. 
I  might  point  to  various  facts  in  his  history  — 
such  as  his  recognition  of  divine  aid  in  his  inter- 
pretation of  the  dreams,  or  rather  his  referring 
the  whole  matter  to  the  direct  agency  of  Heaven, 
—  his  commending  his  brethren  to  the  mercy  of 


DEPENDANCE    ON    GOD.  195 

Almighty  God,  when  he  sent  them  back  to  his 
father,  and  other  similar  circumstances  ;  but  it  is 
enough  to  say  that  this  attribute  of  his  character 
manifests  itself,  directly  or  indirectly,  at  every 
point  of  his  history.  He  evidently  acted,  habitu- 
ally, under  a  deep  impression  of  an  all-seeing, 
all-controlling  God.  And  this  same  spirit  I  would 
urge  you  to  cultivate,  as  the  leading  element  of 
true  piety  —  as  the  germ  of  Christian  character. 

By  the  spirit  of  dependance,  I  mean  that  spirit 
which  recognizes  your  own  weakness,  and  which 
relies,  in  a  suitable  manner,  on  help  from  on  high. 
It  has  reference  both  to  your  temporal  and  spiritual 
needs.  I  hardly  need  say  that  its  appropriate 
expression  is  prayer. 

In  every  thing  that  relates  to  the  present  life 
you  are  to  cherish  a  due  sense  of  dependance  on 
God.  Trivial  as  the  interests  of  this  life  may 
seem,  compared  with  those  of  another,  it  still  has 
its  importance  ;  and  when  considered  in  its  relation 
to  a  future  life,  an  importance  that  outruns  all 
calculation.  In  respect  to  these  interests  —  no 
matter  whether  they  be  the  higher  or  the  lower 
interests  of  life.  —  infinite  power,  wisdom,  good- 
ness, are  to  be  acknowledged.     For  instance,  you 


196  DEPENDANCE  ON  GOD. 

are  to  watch  carefully  the  indications  of  Provi- 
dence, and  to  seek  the  higher  aids  of  God's  Spirit, 
m  regard  to  the  choice  of  your  profession  or 
occupation  for  life  ;  for,  if  you  happen  to  mistake 
here,  and  make  a  choice  which  your  talents  and 
circumstances  do  not  justify,  you  may  bring  upon 
yourself  calamities  from  which  no  subsequent 
effort  will  be  able  to  deliver  you.  You  are  to 
trust  in  God,  not  only  for  guidance  in  respect  to 
the  field  which  you  are  to  occupy,  but  for  the 
ability  to  occupy  it  with  success,  and  for  a  blessing 
to  crown  your  labours.  You  are  liable  sometimes 
to  be  placed  in  circumstances  of  difficulty  and 
embarrassment — to  vSee  your  worldly  prospects 
clouded,  and  your  path  apparently  hedged  up  — 
here  again,  you  are  to  direct  your  eye  upward  ;  — 
you  are  to  seek  relief  from  the  power  that  rules  the 
world.  In  a  word,  you  are  to  trust  God  for  every 
needed  temporal  blessing — you  are  to  trust  his 
wisdom  to  decide  what  blessings  are  best  for  you, 
and  his  power  and  goodness,  to  bestow  them. 

But  there  is  a  nobler  life  than  this  —  there  is  an 
inward  spiritual  life  which  developes  itself  in  holy 
exercises  and  actions  :  there  is  a  future  immortal 
life,  that  is  to  be  the  theatre  of  the  endless  OTowth 


A. 


DEPENDANCE    ON    GOD.  197 

and  glory  of  the  spirit,  and  for  which  the  present 
is  chiefly  important  as  constituting  the  scene  of 
preparation.  And  in  all  that  respects  these  nobler 
forms  of  existence  and  action,  your  dependance  on 
God  is  specially  to  be  acknowledged.  First  of 
all,  you  are  to  cast  yourself  upon  him  as  an 
ofTending  creature.  Deeply  sensible  of  youl 
unworthiness,  you  are  to  rely  on  his  mercy, 
through  the  mediation  of  Christ,  for  the  pardon 
of  your  sins,  and  his  grace  for  the  cleansing  and 
renovation  of  your  soul.  In  all  your  spiritual 
difficulties,  you  are  to  look  to  him  for  direction  ; 
in  all  your  temptations,  for  succour ;  in  all  your 
sorrows,  for  comfort ;  in  all  your  weakness,  for 
strength,  Even  though  you  may  have  been  the 
subject  of  a  true  renovation,  you  will  probably 
often  find  yourself  at  a  distance  from  God,  and 
perhaps  your  progress  in  the  Christian  life  may 
be  so  slow  and  equivocal,  that  you  may  be  ready  to 
doubt  whether  what  you  called  Christian  expe- 
rience was  not  gross  delusion.  In  all  these  cir- 
cumstances, what  you  have  to  do  is  to  bring  to 
your  aid,  by  living  faith,  the  resources  of  bound- 
less grace.  Thus  making  God  your  refuge  and 
strength,  you  will  be  enabled  to  forget  the  things 


198  DEPENDANCE    ON    GOD. 

that  are  behindj  and  press  forward ;  and  your 
path  will  shine  brighter  and  brighter  unto  the  per- 
fect day. 

The  great  importance  of  cultivating  this  principle 
of  dependance  on  God,  will  be  obvious  from  two 
considerations.  It  is  itself  the  primary  element  of 
religious  character,  and  it  is  that  which,  in  its 
legitimate  operation,  gathers  around  it  some  other 
of  the  loveliest  graces  and  virtues  of  the  Christian. 

A  moment's  reflection  Avill  show  you  that  it 
I  recedes,  in  the  order  of  nature,  all  the  other 
graces.  Indeed,  if  it  may  not  be  said  to  .precede 
the  formation  of  Christian  character,  it  is  at  least 
associated  with  the  very  earliest  exercises  of  true 
piety  ;  for  it  is  not  till  the  soul  feels  its  absolute 
dependance  on  God  for  salvation,  that  it  is  brought 
to  yield  itself  up  to  him  in  acts  of  repentance 
and  faith.  Without  this  spirit,  no  one  ever 
offers  up  acceptable  prayer :  the  publican  could 
not  have  exclaimed  with  sincerity  —  "God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !"  —  if  he  had  not  felt 
that  he  was  entirely  dependant  on  God  for 
the  blessing  that  he  supplicated.  Remember 
then,  if  you  have  not  had  such  views  of  your 
own    weakness   and   guilt   and   unworthiness,  as 


DEPENDANCL    ON    GOD.  199 

to  make  you  deeply  realize  that  salvation,  if  it 
comes  to  you  at  all,  must  come  from  God,  —  3'ou 
have  never  been  the  subject  of  a  genuine  conver- 
sion— you  have  never  ofTered  to  God  acceptable 
homage. 

But  j^ou  are  to  view  this  spirit  also  in  its  relation 
to  other  Christian  qualities,  particularly  humility, 
submission,  gratitude,  and  activity. 

What  is  there  that  can  make  you  humble,  if 
it  be  not  a  sense  of  your  dependance  on  God? 
If  you  feel  that  you  are  indebted  entirely  to  your 
own  industry  or  skill  for  your  temporal  blessings, 
and  that  you  may  safely  trust  to  your  own  merit 
for  all  the  spiritual  blessings  that  you  need,  the 
consequence  will  necessarily  be  that  you  will  be 
full  of  pride  and  self  confidence;  —  you  will 
never  come  to  take  lessons  from  the  cross;  — 
you  will  scorn  the  humbling  provision  —  the  only 
provision  which  the  gospel  makes — for  your 
salvation.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  you  feel 
that  you  are  at  best  short-sighted  and  impotent — 
that  you  are  liable  to  be  deceived  where  you  are 
most  sure  of  being  right,  and  liable  to  fail  where 
you  are  most  confident  of  success ;  if  you  are 
deeply  sensible    that   you   owe   a  debt  to   divine 


200  DEPENDANCE    ON    GOD. 

justice  that  you  can  never  pay,  and  that,  if  you 
are  finally  saved,  it  must  be  by  a  special  divine 
and  gracious  interposition ;  if,  in  short,  you  feel 
that  you  are  a  debtor  to  God's  abounding  mercy 
for  every  thing  temporal  and  every  thing  spiritual 
—  for  all  that  you  enjoy  and  all  that  you  hope 
for,  —  then  I  ask,  how  you  can  avoid  being 
humble  ?  If  it  is  God  who  makes  you  to  differ 
from  others  whose  lot  is  less  favoured  —  if  God 
is  the  bountiful  bestower,  and  you  the  unworthy 
recipient,  and  you  sensibly  feel  this,  you  are 
humble  as  a  matter  of  course — you  walk  humbly 
with  God — you  walk  humbly  before  the  world. 
And  I  need  not  explain  to  you  the  difference 
between  that  proud  spirit  which  goeth  before  a 
fall,  and  that  humble  spirit  which  is  the  signal  for 
being  exalted. 

So  also  a  suitable  dependance  on  God  is  a 
security  for  submission  to  the  divine  will.  If  you 
trust  to  your  own  wisdom,  or  that  of  your  fellow 
creatures,  to  order  your  lot,  scorning  the  idea 
that  you  stand  in  need  of  any  superhuman  guid- 
ance, you  will  be  ill  prepared  for  disappointment; 
and  when  it  comes,  you  will  indulge  in  unavailing 
regrets,  and  equally  unavailing  reproaches.     You 


DEPENDANCE    ON    GOD,  201 

will  blame  the  eye  that  was  so  blind,  or  the  hand 
that  was  so  feeble,  or  the  heart  that  was  so  base, 
as  to  frustrate  your  favourite  purposes ;  or  possibly 
you  may  fall  upon  yourself  in  bitter  accusations 
for  having  negligently  betrayed  your  own  inte- 
rests. But,  if  you  cast  all  your  cares  upon  God, 
and  confide  all  your  interests  to  his  providence 
and  grace,  recognizing  his  hand  not  only  in  the 
blessings  that  cheer  you  but  in  the  sorrows  that 
make  your  heart  desolate, — then  you  will  be 
prepared  for  scenes  of  trial — prepared  to  submit 
to  them  without  repining,  because  that  wisdom  in 
which  you  are  accustomed  to  exercise  an  implicit 
confidence  has  ordained  them.  It  was  but  the 
other  day  that  I  received  a  letter  from  a  young 
female,  informing  me  that  her  father,  who  has 
long  been  known  as  one  of  the  greatest  and  best 
men  of  the  age,  had  been  suddenly  —  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye — stricken  down  by  death. 
It  was  the  greatest  affliction  that  she  could 
have  experienced;  for  not  only  was  she  hereby 
deprived  of  one  of  the  best  of  fathers,  but  was 
now,  for  the  first  time,  thrown  upon  her  own 
resources  in  respect  to  the  general  direction  of  the 
interests   of  her   family.       But,    in    the    days   of 


202  DEPENDANCE    ON    GOD. 

prosperity,  she  had  been  accustomed  to  cultivate 
a  constant  feeling  of  trust  in  God ;  and  every 
sentence  in  her  sad  letter  showed  that,  now  that 
the  day  of  adversity  had  come,  she  was  not  taken 
by  surprize — that  her  spirit  had  already  been 
disciplined  for  the  trial,  and  that  she  was  reposing 
in  humble  submission  in  the  perfect  wisdom  and 
goodness  of  her  Heavenly  Father.  You  too  must 
expect  days  of  trial ;  and,  as  you  would  desire  to 
be  calm  when  the  storm  rages,  to  be  resigned 
when  earthly  comforts  fly  away,  let  me  exhort 
you  to  an  habitual  feeling  of  dependance  on  God. 
Gratitude  too  is  another  of  the  graces  that 
cluster  about  this  primary  form  of  religious  feeling. 
It  must  be  so ;  for  if  you  feel  that  you  depend  on 
God  for  every  thing — on  his  providence  for 
protection — on  his  spirit  for  sanctification,  you 
also  recognize  his  har^.  in  these  blessings  when 
they  are  actually  b  stowed ;  and  what  else  is 
thinking  of  him  ii>  this  way  as  your  Benefactor, 
but  being  gratp  ul  for  his  goodness?  Moreover, 
how  natural  font,  as  you  look  forward  in  the  spirit 
of  dependance  to  the  future,  you  should  connect 
with  you;  anticipations  a  review  of  the  past;  that, 
with  thfc  supplications  which  this  spirit  prompts 


DEPENDANCE    ON   GOD.  203 

for  the  blessings  that  you  need,  thanksgivings 
should  also  mingle  for  the  mercies  which  you  have 
received.  Only  take  care  that  you  feel  sufficiently 
your  dependance  on  God,  and  you  may  leave 
the  spirit  of  gratitude  to  take  care  of  itself — 
the  one  can  not  thrive  but  the  other  will  thrive 
with  it. 

I  will  only  add  that  this  temper  which  I  have 
been  recommending,  is  really  the  spirit  of  all  true 
Christian  activity.  I  well  know  that  the  doctrine 
of  dependance  is  often  perverted  to  purposes  of 
negligence  and  sloth.  The  sinner  perverts  it  to 
the  neglect  of  his  salvation  —  for  he  reasons  thus 
with  himself — "If  I  depend  entirely  for  salvation 
on  God's  grace,  then  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to 
wait  till  that  grace  is  communicated  ;  and  if  it 
never  comes,  and  I  am  lost  in  consequence,  who 
shall  say  that  I  am  my  own  destroyer  ?"  The 
professed  Christian  often  perverts  it  to  the  neglect 
of  the  most  obvious  duties  of  the  religious  life  ; 
"  for,"  saj^s  he,  "  if  God's  work  is  to  be  carried 
forward  in  the  world  by  his  own  agency, —  if  the 
church  cannot  be  revived  except  by  his  quickening 
influence,  —  if  the  heathen  cannot  be  saved  unless 
his  arm  is  revealed  for  their  deliverance,  then  what 


204  DEPENDANCE    ON    GOD. 

have  I  to  do,  but  sit  still  till  God  does  his  own 
work,  and  then  give  him  the  glory  ?"  Need  I  say 
that  this  is  the  most  egregious  sophistry,  or  rather 
the  most  miserable  trifling  ?  God  has  made  you  a 
moral  agent ;  and  he  requires  you  to  act  according 
to  the  laws  of  your  moral  nature ;  and  it  is  only 
as  you  obey  this  requisition,  that  you  have  a  right 
to  expect  his  blessing.  He  will  give  you  your 
food  and  raiment,  but  you  must  work  for  it.  He 
will  give  you  grace  to  help  in  every  time  of  need : 
but  he  will  communicate  it  to  you  through  the 
medium  of  your  own  activity.  And  if  you  do 
not  comply  with  the  terms  on  which  the  blessing 
is  offered,  blame  not  God — blame  only  yourself — 
if  it  be  withheld. 

But  I  have  said  that  this  doctrine  of  depen- 
dance,  when  viewed  aright,  instead  of  being  an 
encouragement  to  sloth,  is  a  stimulant  to  effort. 
For  it  carries  you  out  of  your  own  feebleness, 
and  brings  you  into  communion  with  everlasting 
strength.  If  you  were  required  to  discharge  the 
duties  of  the  spiritual  life  especially,  in  reliance 
on  your  own  resources  alone,  you  might  well  yield 
to  despondency,  and  attempt  nothing ;  for,  if  you 
viewed  the  matter  aright,  you  could  not  but  fee] 


DEPENDANCE    ON    GOD.  205 

that,  in  relation  to  such  duties,  your  own  strength 
is  weakness.  But,  since  you  are  privileged  to 
bring  to  yourself  by  faith  and  prayer  a  portion  of 
that  energy  which  made  the  world — since,  when 
you  are  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  your  weakness, 
you  can  hang  on  that  arm  on  which  the  whole 
creation  hangs,  you  have  nothing  to  fear  —  you 
may  go  forward  with  confidence  and  alacrity ; 
and  not  a  believing  and  well  directed  effort  that 
you  put  forth  will  ultimately  miss  its  object. 
And  let  me  say,  this  accords  with  individual 
experience.  The  most  efficient  labourers  in  the 
cause  of  truth  and  righteousness  have  always 
been  those  who  have  believed  the  doctrine  of 
dependance  without  perverting  it ;  who  have 
laboured  as  diligently  as  if  all  depended  on 
themselves ;  who  have  depended  as  absolutely 
as  if  their  labours  were  in  no  way  requisite  to 
the  blessing. 


Xx 


PART  III. 

REWARDS  THAT  CROWN  A  VIRTUOUS 
COURSE. 


LETTER  XVI. 

VIRTUE  CROWNED  WITH  SAFETY. 

If  I  have  accomplished  the  end  which  I  proposed 
in  the  preceding  letters,  I  have  given  you  some 
idea  of  the  dangers  which  you  are  to  meet,  and 
of  the  spirit  in  which  you  are  to  meet  them.  I 
have  shown  you  the  amiable  and  exemplary  Joseph 
cast  into  a  furnace  of  temptation  and  affliction,  and 
coming  out  of  it  like  gold  seven  times  purified  ; 
and  have  endeavoured  to  hold  him  up  to  you, 
not  only  as  an  illustration  of  the  difficulties  and 
trials  which  you  may  expect,  but  as  an  example  of 


208  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   SAFETY. 

the  virtues  and  graces  at  which  you  are  to  aim 
It  only  remains  that,  in  the  letters  which  follow,  I 
should  ask  you  to  contemplate  the  bright  rewards 
with  which  his  course  was  crowned,  as  exempli- 
fying, in  some  degree,  the  rewards  which  every 
young  man  has  a  right  to  look  for,  who  walks  in 
his  steps. 

In  a  world  of  danger  like  this,  it  is  much  to  say 
that  an  individual  is  safe ;  notwithstanding  the 
idea  which  this  involves  is  rather  negative  than 
positive.  I  will  endeavour  to  show  you  how 
virtue  ensures  safety — safety  both  in  respect  to 
temporal  and  spiritual  evils. 

I  do  not  undertake  to  say  that  virtue  will  be 
an  absolute  security  against  all  temporal  evils;  — 
for  we  know  that  this  is  contradicted  by  experience. 
Nor  do  I  mean  to  intimate  that  the  virtuous  man 
will  always  escape  injury  from  his  fellow  man  ;  — 
for  this  idea  is  refuted  by  the  experience  of  Joseph 
himself;  and  we  all  know  that  we  are  to  look  for 
the  history  of  some  of  the  best  men  that  the  world 
has  seen,  in  the  records  of  martyrdom.  The  truth 
which  Joseph's  history  illustrates,  and  to  which  1 
wish  now  to  direct  your  attention,  is,  that  the  good 
man  is  safe,  even    when  dang-ers  seem  to  threateo 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    SAFETY.  209 

—  safe  in  any  circumstances  in  which  he  can  be 
placed. 

If  you  look  into  the  world,  you  will  find  that  a 
large  portion  of  the  evils  which  individuals  suffer 
from  their  fellow  men,  are  not  altogether  unpro- 
voked— they  have  their  origin  in  some  previous 
neglect  or  positive  wrong,  of  which  they  have 
themselves  been  guilty.  You  may  indeed  have 
received  a  much  greater  wrong  than  you  have 
inflicted ;  but  if  you  had  inflicted  none  at  all, 
neither,  perhaps,  would  you  have  received  any. 
Now,  against  this  whole  class  of  evils  virtue 
secures  you,  by  leading  you  to  forbear  all  provo- 
cation. And  when  an  unprovoked  injury  has 
been  inflicted,  virtue  may  not  improbably  prevent 
the  repetition  of  it,  by  leading  you  to  meet  the 
offender  in  the  spirit  of  a  generous  conciliation. 
Let  a  man  who  has  been  injured  by  another,  show 
himself,  not  indeed  insensible  to  the  injury  or 
lacking  in  self  respect,  but,  with  a  high  magnani- 
mous bearing,  ready  to  return  good  for  evil ;  and 
if  he  is  not  henceforth  secure  against  all  injury 
from  the  same  source,  it  is  evidence  that  he  has 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  fiend  and  not  of  a  man. 

Besides,  there  is  something  in  the  dignity  with 

12* 


210  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    SAFETY. 

which  virtue  surrounds  its  possessor,  to  repel  every 
improper  freedom  —  much  more  every  injurious 
assault.  There  are  indeed  some  who  cannot  be 
restrained  even  by  this — some  who  are  so  debased 
and  malignant,  that  the  loftier  the  virtue,  the  more 
ready  they  are  to  insult  and  tarnish  ;  but,  in  most 
cases,  even  malignity  itself  will  quail  before  the 
majesty  of  exalted  principle. 

Moreover,  if  such  an  individual  be  unjustly 
assailed,  there  are  many  around  who  are  ready 
to  come  to  his  aid.  His  excellent  character, 
as  in  the  case  of  Joseph,  secures  to  him  excellent 
friends ;  and  they  are  ever  at  hand  to  throw 
themselves  as  a  shield  between  him  and  any 
meditated  harm  of  which  they  may  be  apprized. 
Even  those  with  whom  he  may  have  had  no 
particular  intimacy,  if  they  see  that  he  is  likely 
to  suffer,  will  throng  about  him  for  his  defence ; 
and  perhaps,  in  the  end,  he  may  have  no  occa- 
sion personally  to  regret  that  the  injury  was 
attempted,  as  the  effect  of  it  has  been  only  to 
show  him  how  much  strength  he  has,  in  the  good 
will  of  the  community  at  large,  as  well  as  in  the 
attachment  of  his  personal  friends. 

But  suppose  the  very  worst  that  can  happen  to  a 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    SAFETY.  211 

good  man — suppose  that,  like  some  of  our  modern 
missionaries,  he  be  surrounded  with  those  who  are 
not  only  thirsting  for  his  blood  but  literally- 
hungering  for  his  flesh,  and  he  sees  the  fearful 
preparation  going  forward  for  taking  his  life  in 
the  most  barbarous  manner — it  is  possible  that 
God  may  interpose,  even  then,  for  his  deliverance. 
He  who  would  not  suffer  Joseph  to  be  left  in  the 
pit  to  die,  nor  to  remain  in  prison  for  a  crime  of 
which  he  was  not  guilty — He  who  would  not 
suffer  the  lions  to  harm  Daniel,  when  he  was 
thrown  among  them,  nor  the  furnace  to  burn  the 
young  men  when  they  were  cast  into  it — He 
may  find  means — and  that  without  resorting  to 
a  miraculous  agency — for  effecting  the  delive- 
rance of  an  individual,  even  in  the  circumstances 
which  I  have  supposed.  Be  it,  however,  that  no 
such  signal  interposition  occurs,  and  that  he  who 
has  fallen  into  the  hands  of  cannibals,  actually 
falls  a  victim  to  their  barbarity  —  is  there  any 
safety  here?  Yes,  safety  in  the  best  sense — the 
immortal  spirit  is  safe — the  faggots  that  set  the 
body  on  fire,  or  the  sharp  instrument  that  pierces 
the  seat  of  life,  only  liberates  the  great  imprisoned 
soul,  so  that  it  can  fly  off  to  its   glorious  home. 


212  VIRTUE    CROAVNED    WITH    SAFETY. 

The  martyr,  with  his  head  upon  the  block,  is 
safe.  Lyman  and  Munson  and  Williams  were 
safe,  when  they  felt  that  the  next  moment  they 
were  to  be  the  subjects  of  a  violent  and  horrible 
death. 

I  have  attempted  to  show  you,  in  some  preced- 
ing letters,  that  those  evils  which  aflfect  your 
earthly  condition  merely,  are  not  the  evils  from 
which  you  have  most  to  fear,  and,  in  relation  to 
which  chiefly,  safety  is  to  be  regarded  as  a 
blessing.  There  are  spiritual  evils — evils  that 
have  their  seat  in  the  soul,  and,  if  not  removed, 
must  affect  its  permanent  well-being — nay,  entail 
upon  it  an  everlasting  death.  Let  me  say,  virtue 
— I  here  and  all  along  use  the  word  in  the 
higher  and  evangelical  sense,  as  including  what- 
ever is  essential  to  religious  character — virtue 
is  an  effectual  security  against  these  greatest  of 
evils. 

Consider  its  influence  in  regard  to  the  tempta- 
tions by  which  you  are  surrounded.  If  you 
habitually  manifest  the  spirit  of  true  religion  — 
especially  if  you  are  a  shining  example  of  it  — 
there  is  a  large  class  of  temptations  v/hich  you 
will,  by  this  means,  keep  at  a  distance  from  you 


ViRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    SAFETY.  213 

• — I  refer  particularly  to  the  direct  attempts  of 
evil  companions  to  draw  you  into  sin.  It  is  true 
that  men  of  corrupt  principles  and  profligate 
lives  are  always  glad  enough  to  seduce  the 
young  Christian  into  forbidden  paths ;  and  where 
they  can  bring  such  an  one  to  make  shipwreck  of 
his  religious  character,  they  never  fail  to  chronicle 
it  as  a  victory.  But  those  on  whom  they  are 
most  likely  to  try  their  wiles,  because  most  likely 
to  succeed,  are  persons  who  have  already  betrayed 
to  them  some  symptoms  of  backsliding' — who 
have  furnished  them  evidence  that  their  principles 
are  more  easy  and  accomroodating,  than  those  of 
professed  christians  generally.  Persons  of  this 
description — observe  it  where  you  will — are 
courted  by  the  gay,  the  worldly,  and  sometimes 
even  the  profligate;  and  alas!  the  result  too 
often  shows  that  the  judgment  which  was  formed 
respecting  their  susceptibility  to  temptation  was 
but  too  correct.  Whereas,  on  the  other  hand, 
let  an  individual  stand  forth  the  consistent, 
decided  Christian,  inquiring  only  what  he  ouglbt 
to  do  in  order  to  decide  what  he  shall  do, — and 
he  will  not  be  regarded  as  a  good  subject  for  the 
wiles  of  the  wicked  to  operate  upon;  —  and  there 


214  VIRTUE    CKOAVNED    WITH    SAFETY. 

will  be  so  little  confidence  of  success  in  respect  to 
him,  that  the  effort  to  tempt  and  destroy  will  be 
likely  to  take  some  different  direction.  The  men 
who  make  it  their  business  to  ruin  others,  are 
generally  wary  enough  in  selecting  those  whom 
they  intend  to  make  their  victims ;  and  they  must 
either  be  excessively  presuming,  or  greatly  lacking 
in  discernment,  to  fasten  upon  those  who  are 
models  of  integrity  and  virtue. 

But  we  will  suppose  that  a  person  of  this  high 
moral  and  religious  character  actually  is  assailed 
by  the  enemies  of  virtue  —  or,  if  you  please,  we 
will  view  him  .as  brought  in  contact  with  the 
various  temptations  incident  to  our  present  condi- 
tion, and  growing  out  of  the  circumstances  in 
which  we  are  placed — temptations  which  even 
the  most  vigilant  care  and  the  most  seraphic  piety 
cannot  always  avert — his  advantage  now  is,  that 
he  is  armed  for  a  conflict  with  the  tempter. 
Toseph  could  not  avoid  the  criminal  solicitations 
of  Potiphar's  wife ;  but  his  eminent  goodness 
made  him  proof  against  them.  You  cannot  avoid 
temptations  from  the  various  objects  with  which 
vou  are  conversant ;  the  various  pursuits  to  which 
vou    are    devoted.      Pleasure,    honour,    wealth, 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   SAFETY.  215 

may  come  and  court  your  affections,  and  try  to 
draw  your  heart  away  from  your  higher  inter- 
ests j  but,  if  you  have  Joseph's  spirit,  you  will 
meet  them  all  with  a  resolute  resistance ;  and 
every  conflict  that  occurs  in  your  experience, 
will  be  ihe  signal  for  a  fresh  victory.  You 
will  not  do  this  in  your  own  strength ;  but 
God's  gracious  Spirit  will  come  to  your  aid, 
and  work  in  you  and  by  you,  to  defeat  the 
powers  of  evil. 

It  is  not  merely  from  enemies  without,  however, 
that  your  best  interests  are  in  jeopardy — you 
have  within  you  existing  in  connection  with  a 
partially  sanctified  nature,  a  formidable  host  of 
corruptions ;  and  these  continue  to  operate  with 
more  or  less  vigour  to  the  close  of  life.  But  even 
these  enemies  shall  not  ultimately  harm  you. 
They  may  temporarily  assert  their  power,  and 
you  may  be  ready  sometimes  to  imagine  that  they 
will  bring  you  into  complete  captivity.  But  here 
again,  if  you  can  rely  on  the  testimony  of  God, 
you  may  feel  sure  that  you  will  come  off  more 
than  conqueror.  The  new  principle  in  your  soul 
will  live  in  spite  of  them ;  and  every  inward 
conflict  in  which  you  are  engaged,  will  render  it 


216  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    SAFETY. 

more  vigorous  in  its  operations.  Yes,  I  repeat, 
you  are  safe  ;  because  you  have  the  promise  of 
God — the  everlasting  arm,  to  sustain  you. 

Say  then,  my  young  friends,  whether  there  be 
not  much  implied  in  that  safety  which  crowns  a 
virtuous  course.  To  be  safe  amidst  temporal 
dangers  and  amidst  spiritual  dangers,  from  enemies 
without  and  from  enemies  within,  in  all  actual 
and  in  all  possible  circumstances  —  surely  you 
cannot  estimate  such  a  privilege  too  highly.  The 
irreligious  man  is  safe  never,  —  not  even  when  no 
cloud  lowers  in  the  sky,  and  every  thing  seems  to 
speak  of  promise  and  hope :  the  good  man  is  safe 
always,  —  though  a  death-like  gloom  may  seem  to 
have  gathered  over  his  horizon,  and  the  last  of  his 
earthly  joys  may  be  upon  the  wing.  Virtue,  thou 
art  indeed  rich  in  thy  rewards  —  but  as  yet  we 
have  only  seen  the  beginning. 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   PEACE.  217 


LETTER  XVII. 

VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   PEACE. 

It  is  a  great  blessing  to  live  in  peace  with  our 
fellow  men  ;  to  be  able  to  reflect,  either  that  we 
have  no  enemies  in  the  world,  or  that,  if  we  have 
them,  it  is  not  our  own  fault.  Peace  in  the 
domestic  circle — peace  in  the  neighbourhood  — 
peace  in  the  more  extended  community,  —  while 
it  is  in  itself  a  rich  blessing,  is  the  source  of  many 
other  blessings  which  enter  largely  into  the  scene 
of  human  enjoyment.  The  universal  prevalence 
of  peace  in  the  world  is  predicted  in  scripture  as 
one  of  the  brightest  glories  of  Messiah's  reign. 

But  the  peace  of  which  1  propose  to  treat  in 
the  present  letter,  differs  from  this  chiefly  as  a 
cause  differs  from  an  effect.  It  is  the  inward 
peace  of  the  soul  —  that  serene  and  yet  fearless 
state  of  mind,  which  philosophy  indeed  may 
counterfeit,  but  which  Christianity  alone  can 
really  produce.     Let   this  spirit  prevail  through 


218  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   PEACE. 

an  entire  community,  and  the  members  of  that 
community  will  be  at  peace  with  each  other, 
furnishing  a  beautiful  resemblance  to  the  harmony 
of  Heaven.  Let  it  reign  in  the  breast  of  a  solitary 
individual,  and  though  there  may  be  the  wildest 
tempest  raging  around  him,  it  Avill  never  penetrate 
the  sanctuary  of  his  own  bosom. 

How  beautifully  is  this  inward  peace  exemplified 
in  the  history  which  I  have  laid  before  you !  We 
have  seen  that  Joseph  was  sometimes  placed  in 
circumstances  of  peculiar  trial :  he  was  cruelly 
exiled  from  the  paternal  home  ;  he  was  sold  as  a 
slave  ;  he  was  imprisoned  as  a  felon  ;  and  yet 
there  is  not  an  intimation  in  the  history,  that  he 
manifested  the  semblance  of  a  complaining  spirit 
in  any  of  the  trying  situations  in  which  he  was 
placed ;  and  the  only  instance  in  which  we  hear 
of  his  making  an  effort,  or  saying  a  word,  with  a 
view  to  bring  about  any  melioration  of  his  condi- 
tion, was  that  in  which  he  hinted  to  the  king's 
butler,  whose  dream  he  had  interpreted,  that,  after 
he  (the  butler)  should  be  released  from  prison,  a 
good  word  spoken  to  the  king  in  his  behalf,  would 
be  very  acceptable.  But  there  was  no  evidence 
that  Joseph  was  ruffled  by  the  ingratitude  of  his 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   PEACE.  219 

fellow  prisoner  in  not  heeding  his  request ;  nor, 
indeed,  by  any  other  of  the  adverse  circumstances 
which  occurred  to  him.  He  seems  always  to  have 
maintained  a  delightful  equanimity  of  temper, — 
no  matter  what  burdens  may  have  oppressed,  or 
what  dangers  may  have  threatened  j  and  this  was 
at  once  one  of  the  exercises  and  the  rewards  of  his 
exemplary  virtue. 

Let  me  call  your  attention,  for  a  little,  to  the 
manner  in  which  virtue  —  religion  —  operates  to 
produce  this  inward  peace.  1  hardly  need  say 
that  this  is  a  point  of  great  importance ;  for  not 
only  is  this  peace  an  important  element  in  our 
earthly  happiness,  but  it  is  that  emphatically 
which  constitutes  earthly  happiness.  Without  it, 
all  the  good  which  the  world  has  to  bestow,  will 
leave  a  man  miserable  :  with  it,  all  the  evil  which 
the  world  can  inflict,  cannot  render  him  so.  In 
the  strong  language  of  scripture, -it  is  a  "peace 
that  passeth  understanding." 

Let  me  say  then,  that  virtue  operates  to  secure 
this  richest  of  all  blessings,  first  of  all.  by  its 
effect  upon  the  conscience.  Man,  as  a  sinn^ir,  is 
alienated  from  God,  his  righteous  lawgiver  and 
final  judge ;  and  conscienje  is    the    faculty    that 


220  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   PEACE. 

gives  him  notice  of  this  alienation,  and  forces  upon 
him  the  inquiry  how  he  shall  be  able  to  stand  in 
the  judgment.  He  may  indeed  be  so  sunk  in 
stupidity,  that  he  may  sin  for  a  time,  and  even 
with  a  high  hand,  without  remorse ;  but  let  him 
awake  to  the  actual  reality  of  his  condition,  and 
then  begins  the  controversy  between  his  inclina- 
tions on  the  one  hand,  and  his  conscience  on  the 
other.  His  sinful  propensities  prompt  to  evil — 
his  conscience  points  to  a  future  reckoning ;  and 
though,  so  long  as  he  retains  his  character  as  an 
habitual  sinner,  his  evil  propensities  prevail,  yet, 
so  long  as  his  conscience  remains  in  any  degree 
awake,  it  will  at  least  occasion  an  inward  disquiet- 
ude, if  it  does  not  haunt  him  with  absolute  horror. 
Now,  it  is  the  province  of  true  virtue  to  bring 
these  different  faculties  of  our  nature  into  harmony 
—  to  give  the  inclinations  a  right  direction,  and 
to  draw  from  conscience  an  approving  testimony. 
But  the  difficulty  lies  yet  deeper,  and  reaches 
farther  back  ;  for  even  the  renovating  work  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  leaves  man  in  only  a  partially 
sanctified  state — he  is  still,  in  a  degree,  the 
servant  of  sin  ;  and  conscience  notifies  him  that 
every  sin  of  which  he  is  guilty  deserves  punish- 


VIRTUE    CROV\^NED    WITH   PEACE.  221 

nient — notifies  him,  moreover,  that  he  can  do 
nothing  to  atone  for  the  sins  that  are  past.  But 
here  comes  in  the  life  giving  assurance,  that  there 
is  redemption  from  sin  through  the  blood  of  Christ. 
Faith  in  Christ  applies  this  blood  to  the  con- 
science, thus  furnishing  it  with  an  answer  toward 
God ;  and  the  consequence  is,  that  the  clamours 
of  guilt  are  hushed,  and  the  joy  which  the 
confidence  of  a  free  forgiveness  inspires,  diffuses 
itself  through  the  soul.  Many  of  you,  I  trust, 
who  will  read  these  pages,  have  a  knowledge  on 
this  subject,  which  experience  alone  can  impart. 
You  have  felt — still  feel — what  no  language 
can  render  intelligible  to  a  mind  that  is  a  stranger 
to  the  exercises  of  living  faith  :  and  as  for  those 
who  have  had  no  such  experience,  they  have  not 
only  the  testimony  of  multitudes  that  is  worthy 
of  all  acceptation,  but  they  may  form  some 
conception  of  the  joy  of  forgiveness  by  what  they 
themselves  sometimes  suffer  from  the  terrours 
of  remorse.  If  you  cannot  fully  appreciate  the 
blessing  of  a  pacified  conscience  through  the 
blood  of  Christ,  so  far  as  respects  its  positive 
character,  you  surely  have  had  experience  enough 


222  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   PEACE. 

of  an  opposite  kind,  to  realize  that  it  is  no  light 
thing  to  gain  a  deliverance  from  a  sense  of  guilt. 
But,  while  virtue  produces  inward  peace,  by 
thus  reversing  the  testimony  of  conscience,  it 
contributes  to  the  same  result  also,  by  rooting  out 
from  the  soul  those  evil  afTections  and  desires 
which  perpetually  minister  to  its  disquietude. 
Look  at  the  revengeful  man.  He  has  received, 
or  supposes  he  has  received,  some  injury;  and 
he  imagines  that  his  honour  is  tarnished ;  and 
he  cannot  rest  till  he  has  made  provision  to 
brighten  it  up  by  some  revengeful  act — ^^perhaps 
by  attacking  his  adversary  in  the  street — perhaps 
by  calling  him  into  the  field,  in  the  hope  of 
shedding  his  blood.  Rely  on  it,  there  is,  in  all 
these  cases,  not  only  mental  excitement  but 
mental  agony ;  the  spirit  which  can  prompt  to 
such  an  act  or  such  a  project,  is  worthy  of  a 
fiend ;  and  it  cannot  have  possession  of  a  human 
bosom  without  being  a  tormentor.  And  even, 
where,  from  considerations  of  timidity  or  of 
policy,  there  may  be  no  external  demonstration 
of  the  revengeful  spirit,  —  though  it  may  never 
be  felt  in  any  offensive  act,  nor  heard  even  in  a 
whisper,  yet  it  will  be  nothing  better  in  the  soul 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   PEACE.  223 

than  an  imprisoned  fury;  or,  if  you  please,  a 
serpent  holding  the  whole  inner  man  continually 
in  his  deadly  coils.  Look,  next,  at  the  covetous 
man,  who  is  forever  grasping  for  great  posses- 
sions ;  at  the  envious  man,  who  cannot  be  happy 
while  he  sees  others  more  favoured  than  himself; 
at  the  complaining  man,  who  can  never  be 
satisfied  with  his  own  lot ;  at  the  sensualist, 
whose  appetites  are  always  in  a  feverish  excite- 
ment, and  whether  gratified  or  ungratified,  leave 
him  with  no  rest  to  his  spirit ;  and,  in  each  of 
these  cases,  if  you  could  know  the  secret  history 
of  the  soul,  you  would  know  that  there  is  an 
amount  of  unhappiness,  of  which  the  outer 
man  gives  but  little  indication.  To  all  these 
evils,  virtue,  in  proportion  as  she  prevails,  fur- 
nishes an  effectual  antidote  :  and  how  much  such 
an  antidote  is  worth,  they  best  can  judge,  who 
have  felt  the  corroding  influence  of  these  evil 
tempers,  and  have  afterwards  had  them  cured  by 
those  powerful  influences  from  on  high  which 
religion  supplies. 

It  is  not,  however,  the  whole  triumph  of  virtue 
that  she  eradicates  bad  dispositions — she  brings 
goods  ones  in  their  place.     She  not  only  drives  out 


224  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    PEACE. 

from  the  bosom  the  spirit  of  revenge,  but  she 
introduces  the  spirit  of  forgiveness  and  benevo- 
lence. She  not  only  casts  out  the  spirit  of  envy 
and  repining,  but  she  brings  in  generosity  and 
contentment.  She  not  only  cures  the  vices  of  the 
sensualist,  but,  by  bringing  his  appetites  into  a 
healthful  subjection  to  his  reason,  she  ministers  to 
his  direct  and  innocent  enjoyment.  Indeed,  all 
the  various  emotions  which  virtue  awakens,  are  in 
their  nature  pleasurable.  Let  her  have  the  entire 
dominion  of  the  soul,  and  you  have  the  model  of 
a  Heaven  upon  earth. 

I  may  say  too,  that  virtue  opens  yet  another 
source  of  enjoyment,  in  the  sweet  hopes  and 
anticipations  which  she  inspires.  It  is  not  in 
man,  constituted  as  he  is,  to  be  always  absorbed 
with  the  present  —  the  mind  will  run  forward,  to 
see  what  the  future  may  have  treasured  up  for  it ; 
and  no  small  part  of  its  happiness  or  misery  is 
found  in  the  result  of  these  excursions  into  futurity. 
The  wicked  man,  if  he  exercises  his  faculties  on 
this  subject  in  a  rational  manner,  will  find  nothing 
to  minister  to  his  joy — much,  on  the  contrary,  to 
fill  him  with  anxiety  and  alarm.  But  the  truly 
good  man  gathers  from  his  anticipations  of  the 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    PEACE.  225 

future  some  of  his  most  substantial  and  elevated 
enjoyment.  What  may  await  him  in  this  world, 
he  knows  not — for  aught  that  he  can  tell,  his 
whole  future  life  may  be  a  scene  of  painful 
vicissitude;  but  there  is  another  thought  that 
more  than  sustains  him  under  this — viz.  thai 
God's  paternal  care  and  faithfulness  are  pledged 
to  him  in  all  circumstances,  and  that  nothing  can 
occur,  so  adverse  to  his  present  comfort,  but  that 
it  will  serve  to  increase  his  future  joy.  And  then, 
when  he  looks  beyond  this  momentary  existence, 
and  throws  his  thoughts  along  the  eternal  future, 
here  there  rise  to  his  view  scenes  of  light  and 
glory,  which  the  most  glowing  imagination  cannot 
fully  overtake.  Heaven,  free  from  every  thing 
that  can  awaken  sorrow — Heaven,  full  of  every 
thing  that  can  entrance  the  spirit,  opens  upon  the 
eye  of  faith ;  and  while  he  is  employed  in  analy- 
zing the  eternal  weight  of  glory,  his  mind  is 
quickened  into  a  still  higher  exultation  by  the 
thought  that  this  is  his  own  glorious  inheritance. 
What  matters  it  how  much  of  trouble  there  may 
be  in  my  path  through  the  world,  if  I  have  the 
assurance  that  that  path  shall  open  into  a  world 
whose  glor>e?  vvill  cast  into  the  shade   even  the 


226  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   PEACE. 

brightest  forms  of  life  and  beauty  that  my  imagi- 
nation hath  ever  conceived. 

I  must  not  omit  to  add  that  the  good  man  is  at 
peace,  inasmuch  as  he  enjoys  the  special  presence 
and  favour  of  God.  He  has  a  right  to  expect 
this  at  all  times,  provided  he  lives  in  the  faithful 
discharge  of  duty;  but  especially  in  those  dark 
seasons  of  life,  when  earthly  comforts  fail,  and  he 
has  the  deepest  sense  of  the  poverty  of  the  world. 
Above  all,  has  he  a  right  to  expect  it,  when  the 
earthly  tabernacle  totters,  and  the  grave  is  opening 
beneath  his  feet.  Believe  me,  the  Lord  our 
Shepherd  does  not  forget  his  people,  when  they 
walk  through  the  dark  valley.  As  truly  as  they 
are  there.  He  is  there  also,  with  his  rod  and  his 
staff.  Oh,  is  not  this  a  glorious  reward  of  a 
virtuous  life?  Is  it  not  more  than  a  compensation 
for  all  the  toils  and  struggles  which  it  may  have 
occasioned,  that  it  should  render  the  last  struggle 
easy  to  be  borne,  inasmuch  as  it  is  endured  within 
sight  of  the  world  of  glory — within  hearing  of 
the  songs  of  seraphs  ? 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    RICHES.  227 


LETTER  XVIII. 

VIRTUE    CRO\VNED    WITH   RICHES, 

You  may  perhaps  think  it  a  somewhat  violeni 
transition,  to  pass  from  a  consideration  of  that 
inward  peace  which  is  so  immediately  identified 
with  the  happiness  of  the  good  man,  and  which  is 
the  germ  of  that  more  expanded  and  elevated 
enjoyment  that  he  anticipates  in  Heaven,  to  a  suh- 
ject  that  seems  so  earthly  and  grovelling  as  that  of 
riches.  You  may  be  ready  to  ask  whether  I  have 
forgotten  that  riches  are  alike  uncertain  and 
unsatisfying;  that,  while  they  often  take  to 
themselves  wings  and  fly  away,  they  are  inade- 
quate, while  they  are  possessed,  to  meet  the 
soul's  noblest  desires — nay,  that  they  drown 
multitudes  in  destruction  and  perdition.  No,  I 
have  not  forgotten  this,  or  any  part  of  it;  and  yet 
I  am  prepared  to  maintain  that  riches  may,  in 
themselves,  justly  be  considered  a  blessing  ;  for 
it   is   the    province   of   virtue   to   transmute    the 


228  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    RICHES. 

earthly  into  the  heavenly  —  the  perishable  into 
the  imperishable.  Nay  further,  I  am  ready  also 
to  vindicate  the  joining  together  in  the  same 
category  the  wealth  that  palls  and  perishes  and 
the  peace  that  satisfies  and  endures  ;  for  wealth 
has  only  to  be  used  for  the  purposes  for  which  it 
was  intended,  to  become  an  auxiliary  to  that 
inward  quietude  which  constitutes  the  soul's 
richest  possession.  In  one  point  of  view,  you 
cannot  say  too  much  derogatory  of  riches — in 
another,  you  are  in  little  danger  of  over-rating 
fi^eir  value.  Considered  as  the  supreme  portion 
of  the  soul,  they  are  stamped  with  insignificance 
and  worthlessness ;  but,  considered  as  a  means  of 
doing  good  and  thus  securing  treasure  in  Heaven, 
they  possess  a  value  which  outruns  all  human 
powers  of  calculation. 

You  have  already  seen  that  Joseph,  in  the 
course  of  events,  became  the  possessor  of  great 
riches.  And  how  did  he  obtain  them?  Not 
surely  by  dishonest  or  even  doubtful  speculations, 
nor  by  any  questionable  means  which,  for  his  own 
credit's  sake,  he  would  have  chosen  not  have 
divulged  ;  but  simply  by  fulfilling  with  fidelity 
the   duties  belonging   to   the  various  stations    in 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    RICHES.  229 

which  Providence  placed  him.  There  is  not  the 
shadow  of  evidence  from  the  history,  that  he  was 
inordinately  fond  of  riches,  or  that  he  yielded  to 
any  of  the  temptations  which  riches  bring  with 
them,  or  even  that  he  ever  made  any  special  effort 
to  obtain  them ;  but  it  was  the  ordinance  of 
Heaven  that,  without  his  own  seeking,  he  should 
have  the  control  of  great  wealth.  That  it  was 
really  a  great  blessing  to  him,  because  he  used  it 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  a  blessing  to  others, 
there  can  be  no  doubt. 

Wealth  is  altogether  a  relative  term  ;  as  we 
denominate  a  man  rich  or  poor,  according  to  the 
standard  by  which  he  is  judged.  We,  however, 
ordinarily  consider  a  man  rich,  who  has  consider- 
able means  at  his  command  above  what  he  needs 
for  the  support  of  himself  and  his  family.  If  an 
individual  has  an  income  that  barely  supports  him. 
and  that  with  rigid  economy,  the  utmost  we  say 
of  him  is,  that  he  is  in  a  state  of  respectable 
mediocrity  ;  but,  if  his  income  be  so  great  that  the 
reasonable  expenses  of  himself  and  those  who  are 
immediately  dependant  upon  him,  consume  but  an 
inconsiderable  part  of  it,  then,  by  common  consent, 
he  is  reo-arded  a  rich  man. 


230  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   RICHES, 

It  has  sometimes  been  questioned  whether  weahh 
is  a  legitimate  object  of  human  pursuit ;  but,  under 
certain  limitations,  I  marvel  that  any  one  should 
ever  doubt  that  it  is  so.  As  a  means  of  nourishing 
extravagance,  of  gratifying  pride,  or  of  ruining 
children,  no  sober  man  would  defend  the  pursuit 
of  it ;  but,  as  a  means  of  ministering  to  the  wants 
of  others,  of  advancing  the  great  interests  of  man- 
kind, and  thus  securing  the  blessing  that  rests 
upon  the  charitable,  it  may  be  pursued  even 
diligently  and  earnestly,  and  neither  reason  nor 
religion  will  have  any  thing  to  say  but  in  the  way 
of  approval.  It  is  the  spirit  with  which,  and  the 
end  for  which,  it  is  pursued,  that  justify— I  may 
say,  sanctify  the  pursuit. 

Having  thus  vindicated  wealth  from  the  charge 
of  worthlessness,  and  the  proper  pursuit  of  it  from 
the  suspicion  of  criminality  or  unreasonableness, 
let  me  now  attempt  to  show  you  that  the  practice 
of  virtue  is  favourable  to  acquiring  and  retaining 
this  world's  goods.  When  I  speak  of  retaining 
them,  of  course  I  do  not  refer  to  their  being  kept 
in  the  hand  of  a  miser,  but  to  their  being  preserved 
from  a  premature  and  calamitous  dispersion. 

Wealth  is  ordinarily  the  fruit  of  labour,  either 


VIRTUE    CROWNED   WITH   RICHES.  231 

of  body  or  mind,  or  both ;  for  successful  labour, 
health  is  an  essential  requisite ;  virtue  is  friendly 
to  health,  and  therefore  is  favourable  to  the 
attainment  of  riches.  Do  you  ask  how  virtue 
promotes  health  ?  It  promotes  it  by  preventing 
that  numerous  tribe  of  diseases  consequent  on 
sensuality,  which  benumb  the  physical  faculties, 
becloud  the  intellect,  and  brutalize  the  Avhole 
man.  And  even,  when  sensual  indulgences  are 
kept  within  what  may  be  called  a  moderate  limit, 
so  that  the  individual  shall  not  be  marked  for 
excess,  still  their  effect  is  gradually  to  impair  the 
energies  of  the  system,  as  well  as  to  render  it 
unfit  for  immediate  exertion.  It  promotes  it  still 
farther,  by  keeping  the  mind  free,  in  a  great 
measure,  from  agitating  and  corroding  passions. 
Let  an  individual  be  subjected  habitually  to  the 
goadings  of  a  guilty  conscience  ;  let  him  accustom 
himself  to  violent  ebullitions  of  anger  without  any 
attempt  at  self  control ;  let  him  meet  some  morti- 
fication at  every  step  by  reason  of  his  unsubdued 
pride  ;  let  the  sight  of  a  condition  more  eligible 
than  his  own  be  a  signal  for  the  workings  of  a 
hateful  envy  ;  and  you  may  rest  assured  there  is  a 
process,  however  imperceptible,  going  forward,   to 


232  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   RICHES. 

impair,  if  not  ultimately  destroy,  his  physical' 
energies.  God  has  constituted  the  different  parts 
of  our  nature  with  such  a  dependance  on  each 
other,  that,  under  the  influence  of  the  same  causes, 
they  are  found  to  rejoice  or  to  suffer  together ; 
and  especially  is  it  true  that  a  wound  which  has 
its  seat  in  the  moral,  extends,  in  a  degree  at  least, 
both  to  the  intellectual  and  the  physical.  Whereas, 
on  the  other  hand,  let  the  moral  faculties  receive 
that  direction  which  virtue  secures  to  them;  let 
the  conscience  bear  witness  for  good,  and  let  the 
passions  occupy  their  proper  place  as  servants, 
not  as  masters,  in  the  soul,  and  you  may  rely  on 
it  that  much  has  been  gained  towards  securing  an 
unclouded,  vigorous  mind,  and  a  healthful  bodJ^ 
I  do  not  undertake  to  say  that  every  good  man  is, 
of  course,  a  man  of  active  intellect,  or  of  robust 
bodily  health  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  1  am  well 
aware  that  some  monsters  in  vice  have  possessed 
and  retained,  not  only  gigantic  powers  of  mind, 
but  uninterrupted  health  of  body,  through  a  long 
life.  But  these  latter  cases  especially,  are  evi- 
dently exceptions  to  a  general  rule  ;  and  are  to 
be  accounted  for,  sometimes  from  some  peculiarity 
of  original  constitution,  and  sometimes  from  the 


VIRTUE    CKOWNED    ^V1TII    RICHES.  233 

overpowering  influence  of  circumstances.  The 
ordinary  course  of  human  experience  fully  con- 
firms my  position,  that  a  well  balanced  state  of 
the  afTections  and  passions,  which  it  is  the  appro- 
priate office  of  virtue  to  bring  about,  is  highly 
favourable  to  that  state  of  both  mind  and  body 
which  is  essential  to  continued  and  successful 
effort. 

I  am  sure  you  will  not  think  I  have  taken  too 
much  for  granted  in  saying  that  health  is  an  abso- 
lute requisite  to  effective  labour;  for  no  doubt 
your  own  experience  has  already  taught  you  some 
lessons  on  this  subject  which  you  cannot  forget. 
Suppose  your  occupation  be  that  of  a  merchant, 
or  a  mechanic,  or  a  farmer  ;  and  you  go  to  your 
counting-room,  or  to  your  work-shop,  or  upon 
your  farm,  with  an  enervated,  or  perhaps  inflamed, 
physical  system:  you  look  around  you  and  see 
that  there  is  much  to  be  done ;  and,  it  may  be, 
actually  put  your  hand  to  the  work ;  but,  in  the 
weakness  that  oppresses,  or  the  fever  that  burns, 
or  the  pain  that  agonizes,  you  find  a  reason  for 
speedily  returning  to  your  dwelling,  and  possibly 
sending  for  medical  aid.     Or,  it  may  be,  you  are 

engaged  in  one  of  the  liberal  professions,  or  per- 
is* 


234  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    RICHES. 

haps  have  devoted  yourself  to  Hterature  and 
authorship  —  here  again,  you  go  with  an  enfeebled 
frame  into  your  office  or  study,  and  gird  yourself 
for  a  conflict  with  some  knotty  point  in  the  law, 
or  set  yourself  to  ponder  and  digest  some  of  the 
fine  passages  from  the  ancient  classics  —  but  oh 
how  inadequate  you  are  to  the  work  you  have 
undertaken,  and  how  glad  you  are  to  get  back  to 
your  chamber,  where  you  can  sink  down  into  an 
attitude  of  comfortable  repose  !  And  the  saddest 
illustration  of  this  point  is,  that  labour  persevered 
in,  in  spite  of  disease,  not  unfrequently  brings 
death.  Not  a  year  passes  but  that  numbers  many 
a  youthful  genius  among  the  dead,  who,  but  for 
acting  in  defiance  of  the  laws  of  his  physical 
constitution,  might  have  continued  to  shine  for 
years  with  increasing  biilliancy. 

Virtue  tends  to  the  same  result  also,  by  prompt- 
ing to  a  habit  of  industry.  Without  such  a  habit, 
no  one  can  ever  expect  to  acquire  wealth,  unless, 
by  some  fortunate  accident,  it  may  be  thrown  into 
his  possession  ;  nor,  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
things,  will  one  be  likely  to  retain  it  long,  if  he 
actually  does  possess  it.  For  where  there  is  not 
industry,  you  will  rarely  find  economy :  indolence 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   RICHES.  235 

and  prodigality  usually  go  hand  in  hand  ;  and  it 
matters  not  how  much  property  may  be  committed 
to  such  an  agency  as  this,  it  will  almost  certainlj'-, 
at  no  distant  period,  go  to  the  winds.  But,  on 
the  contrary,  an  industrious  habit  will  usually  be 
found  associated  with  an  economical  habit ;  and 
the  man  whose  faculties  are  kept  in  vigorous 
operation  for  the  attainment  of  any  object,  will 
be  likely  to  take  good  care  that  the  object  docs 
not  needlessly  slip  through  his  hands.  But  how 
does  it  appear  that  it  is  the  tendency  of  virtue  to 
make  one  industrious  ?  She  teaches  every  man 
that  those  faculties  which  qualify  him  for  action, 
are  the  gift  of  his  Creator,  and  that,  as  a  re- 
sponsible agent,  he  is  bound  to  use  them  for  the 
purposes  for  which  they  are  given.  She  teaches 
him  that  the  sphere  of  his  activity  is  designated 
by  the  circumstances  in  which  he  is  placed :  and 
that,  if  he  is  called  to  labour  t'l  a  worldly 
vocation,  he  is  to  labour  diligently,  with  a  vie.v 
to  the  accomplishment  of  the  greatest  good.  And 
finally,  by  the  influence  that  she  exerts  in  pro- 
ducing and  preserving  a  healthful  state  of  the 
faculties,  she  not  only  increases  the  ability  to 
labour,    but    renders    labour    pleasant ;    so    that 


236  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   RICHES. 

industry  carries  with  it  its  own  reward.  If  then 
weahh  is  ordinarily  to  be  expected  only  from 
industry,  and  industry  is  the  legitimate  product 
of  virtue,  we  have  a  right  to  say  that  virtue  is 
favourable  to  this  kind  of  worldly  prosperity. 

It  is  another  important  consideration  which 
jrou  are  to  note,  that  a  virtuous  character  always 
secures  public  confidence ;  and  all  men  of  busi- 
ness know  how  indispensable  this  is  to  successful 
enterprize.  So  numerous  and  complicated  are 
the  relations  of  business,  that  no  one  can  go 
extensively  into  any  department  of  it,  without 
having  much  to  do  with  his  fellow  men — without 
having  frequent  occasion  to  ask  facilities  of  some 
kind  or  other  in  carrying  forward  his  operations ; 
and  sometimes  momentous  issues  may  be  staked 
on  his  ability  to  obtain  them.  Now,  if  he  have 
the  confidence  of  the  community,  as  he  certainly 
will  have  if  he  be  a  truly  good  man,  he  will 
ordinarily  find  it  no  difficult  matter  to  obtain 
whatever  temporary  assistance  he  may  need  ;  nor 
will  those  to  whom  he  makes  application  find 
occasion  even  to  hesitate,  or  to  make  inquiry 
concerning  him,  before  they  determine  to  respond 
favourably  to   his  request.      And  even  in  cases 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    RICHES.  237 

where  it  may  be  inconvenient  to  render  the 
desired  assistance,  there  will  not  be  wanting  those 
who  will  be  ready  to  make  a  special  effort, 
and  even  subject  themselves  to  some  temporary 
embarrassment,  rather  than  that  such  a  man 
should  suffer  seriously  and  permanently  in  his 
worldly  interests.  You  may  rest  assured  that 
any  man,  —  no  matter  how  much  distinguished 
for  shrewdness  and  foresight  he  may  be — if  he 
has  not  the  confidence  of  the  community  in  which 
he  lives,  labours  in  any  vocation  at  great  disad- 
vantage ;  whereas,  on  the  other  hand,  a  man  of 
only  moderate  capacity  for  business, — if  he  has 
a  high  character  for  integrity  and  benevolence, 
will  have  every  thing  to  hope  from  the  good  will 
of  his  neighbours  and  acquaintances. 

But  there  is  one  consideration  more,  which 
has  a  bearing  on  this  subject,  too  important  to  be 
omitted — I  mean  that  the  good  man,  even  in  his 
worldly  pursuits,  has  a  right  to  expect  the 
special  blessing  of  God.  It  is  of  the  man  who 
"  delighteth  greatly  in  keeping  the  divine  com- 
mandments," that  inspiration  hath  said,  that 
"  wealth  and  riches  shall  be  in  his  house."  Not- 
withstandina:  there    is    an    established    order    of 


238  VIRTUE    CEOWNED    WITH    RICHES. 

things  in  the  kingdom  both  of  nature  and  of  provi- 
denee,  yet  this  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  a  piece 
of  bhnd  mechanism  that  moves  forward  without 
a  mover  or  a  guide ;  nor  yet  as  being  fixed  in 
such  a  sense  that  there  is  no  room  for  the 
operation  of  infinite  inteUigence  and  infinite 
benevolence  in  connection  with  it :  on  the  con- 
trary, He  who  originated  it  and  put  it  in  motion, 
presides  over  it,  every  moment ;  and  He  is  never 
at  a  loss  how  to  make  it  the  medium  of  the 
fulfilment  of  his  promises,  or  of  the  communica- 
tion of  his  silent,  though  special  blessing,  on  the 
labours  of  those  who  trust  in  him. 

After  all,  I  think  I  hear  you  saying,  "  Is  not 
the  doctrine  of  this  letter  contradicted  by  common 
experience  1  When  we  look  abroad  upon  the 
world,  do  we  not  find  that  a  large  proportion  of 
the  rich  men  are  those  who  put  no  trust  in  God, 
and  who  scruple  not  even  at  the  most  questionable 
schemes  for  obtaining  property ;  and  that  a  multi- 
tude of  the  poor  are  rich  in  faith  and  heirs  of  the 
kingdom  V  I  reply  to  this,  without  altogether 
denying  the  fact  implied  in  it,  that,  though  the 
natural  tendencies  of  things  may  sometimes  be 
counteracted   by   the  influence  of  circumstances. 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    RICHES.  239 

yet  they  still  remain  the  same  ;  and  that  we  are 
to  regulate  our  conduct  and  frame  our  expecta- 
tions according  to  the  established  order  of  things, 
and  not  according  to  any  devices  which  may 
seem  to  contradict  it.  And  further,  if  it  be 
admitted,  as  doubtless  it  must,  that  men  may 
become  very  rich  by  very  unfair  means,  experi- 
ence also  teaches,  and  with  no  less  certainty,  that 
property  acquired  in  this  way,  does  not  ordinarily 
remain  long  in  the  hands  of  its  possessor.  A 
dishonest  man,  though  he  may  occasionally 
succeed  in  outwitting  others,  is  almost  sure, 
sooner  or  later,  to  play  the  same  game  success- 
fully on  himself  The  treasures  of  such  an  one 
are  liable  to  be  taken  up  by  every  wind  ;  and  if 
Ihey  are  suffered  to  remain  with  him,  it  will  be 
found  at  last  that  there  was  a  concealed  canker 
lodged  in  them.  Here  is  the  true  reason,  in 
respect  to  multitudes,  why  they  are  suddenly 
plunged  from  affluence  to  poverty — their  posses- 
sions were  fraudulently  procured ;  and  God  in 
judgment  permits  them  to  be  quickly  dissipated. 
Let  all  your  efforts,  my  young  friends,  for  the 
acquisition  of  property,  be  prompted  and  directed 
by  virtuous  dispositions ;  and  you  have  reason  to 


240  VIRTUE    CliOWNED    WITH   HONOUR. 

expect  that  God  will  crown  them  with  his  bless- 
ing; or,  if  he  send  disappointment,  it  will  be 
your  privilege  to  know  that  there  is  a  blessing 
even  in  that. 


LETTER  XIX. 

VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   nONOUS. 

Every  one  who  reads  the  history  of  Joseph 
perceives  at  once  the  connection  between  the 
high  character  which  he  maintained  and  the  high 
places  which  he  occupied.  He  might  have 
possessed  fine  intellectual  powers,  and  those 
powers  might  have  been  extensively  cultivated, 
and  yet  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  he  would 
ever  have  emerged  from  the  degrading  bondage 
into  which  his  brethren  sold  him.  Neither 
Potiphar  nor  Pharaoh  would  have  entrusted  him 
with  so  much  authority,  but  for  the  confidence 
which  they  felt  that  he  would  not  abuse  it ;  and 
this  confidence  was  founded  upon  a  full  convic- 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HONOUR.  241 

tion  of  his  spotless  integrity.  Need  I  say  that 
this  is  but  an  illustration  of  the  truth  which  I 
design  to  spread  before  you  in  this  letter  —  viz. 
that  virtue  naturally  tends  to  honour.  I  use  the 
word  honour  here  in  two  different  senses — as 
denoting  the  esteem  that  is  generally  paid  to  true 
worth,  and  the  distinction  that  pertains  to  exalted 
rank. 

The  best  evidence  that  virtue  tends  to  secure 
the  favourable  regards  of  mankind,  is  to  be  found 
in  what  we  see  constantly  passing  around  us. 
Who  are  the  individuals  who  enjoy  in  the  highest 
degree  the  confidence  of  the  community  in  which 
they  live ;  whose  example  is  most  frequently  held 
up  as  worthy  of  all  praise  ;  whose  death  makes  a 
chasm  in  society  that  is  sensibly  felt  and  deeply 
deplored  ?  And,  on  the  other  hand,  who  are  they 
that  are  looked  upon  with  suspicion,  and  are 
trusted,  if  trusted  at  all,  only  within  very  narrow 
limits ;  whose  example  is  referred  to  only  as  a 
thing  to  be  shunned,  and  whose  death  is  regarded 
as  relieving  society  from  an  incubus,  if  not  from 
a  pest  ?  Each  of  these  questions  suggests  its  own 
answer.  He  who  should  require  any  other  proof 
that  virtue  secures  esteem  than  what  meets  him 


242  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    HONOUR. 

wherever  his  eye  rests,  is  either  a  miserable  hypo- 
crite, or  else  is  not  to  be  dealt  with  as  a  rational 
being. 

But  what  I  am  concerned  to  do  now,  is  to  show 
you  how  virtue  secures  this  end.  And  even  this 
is  so  obvious  that  it  cannot  require  any  lengthened 
train  of  remark. 

It  results  from  the  very  constitution  of  our 
nature,  that  we  approve  of  virtue  both  in  the 
principle  and  the  practice.  Its  leading  elements 
are  integrity  and  benevolence ;  and,  though  it 
must  be  admitted  that  men  may  become  so  des- 
perately corrupt,  as  to  hate  these  qualities,  at  least 
in  some  of  their  operations,  yet  they  have,  after 
all,  a  principle  within  them,  which  renders  a 
verdict,  constrained  though  it  be,  in  favour  of  the 
right :  or,  if  there  be  some  cases  in  which  deprav- 
ity is  so  gross  as  to  bring  a  film  temporarily  over 
the  eye  of  the  soul,  so  that  the  difference  between 
good  and  evil  is  really  not  discovered,  yet  that 
film  sooner  or  later  passes  off,  and  the  moral 
oerceptions  finally  become  as  distinct  as  ever. 
Even  the  operation  of  justice,  which  belongs 
essentially  to  virtue,  finds  an  advocate  in  the 
bosom  of  the  very  man  whose  voice  is  lifted  up 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    HONOUR.  243 

to  protest  against  it.  Tlie  knave  who  is  arraigned 
to  answer  for  his  fraudulent  transactions,  the 
thief  who  looks  forward  to  his  trial  as  an  intro- 
duction to  the  penitentiary,  the  assassin  who  has 
visions  of  the  ignominy  and  horrour  of  the  scaf- 
fold,—  however  much  each  of  them  may  attempt 
to  prove  his  innocence  of  the  crime  with  which  he 
is  charged,  he  will  never  think  of  maintaining  that 
that  with  which  he  is  charged  is  no  crime ;  and, 
in  his  silent  communings  with  himself,  he  will  be 
obliged  to  admit  to  his  own  conscience  that  the 
magistrate  did  right  when  he  arrested  him,  and 
that  the  court  will  do  right  when  they  sentence 
him.  The  truth  is,  though  it  is  at  the  option 
of  men  to  do  right  or  wrong,  it  is  no  easy  thing 
for  them,  especially  in  cases  of  moment,  to  confound 
the  right  and  the  wrong  in  their  perceptions.  And 
if  this  be  true  even  in  extreme  cases,  it  proves 
beyond  a  peradventure,  that  there  is  that  in  the 
very  constitution  of  man,  that  renders  homage  to 
virtue,  antecedently  even  to  the  blessings  which 
virtue  brings  in  its  train. 

But  we  are  to  look  at  it  further,  as  it  operates 
lor  the  well  being  of  society.  What  are  those 
evils  which  have  the  most  disastrous  bearing  upon 


244  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HONOUR. 

social  happiness  ?  What  but  the  indulgence  of 
the  base  and  malignant  passions  of  human  nature  ? 
What  but  that  devotion  to  sensual  gratification 
that  robs  man  of  his  humanity  ?  W^hat  but  that 
malicious  and  revengeful  spirit  that,  in  resenting 
one  injury,  provokes  another?  What  but  that  cold 
and  withering  selfishness,  that  can  look  upon 
suffering  with  an  unpitying  eye,  and  even  refuse  a 
morsel  of  bread  to  the  forlorn  zind  pennyless 
orphan  ?  But,  just  in  proportion  as  virtue  pre- 
vails in  a  community,  these  evils  are  prevented  or 
removed.  Virtue  saves  the  expense  of  sustaining 
alms-houses  and  penitentiaries,  and  prevents  the 
disgrJLce  and  suffering  incident  to  a  residence  in 
these  dwelling  places  of  the  guilty.  Virtue  exerts 
herself  to  reclaim  those  who  have  begun  to  wan- 
der, and  thus  to  check  vice  in  its  incipient  stages. 
Virtue  carries  bread  to  the  starving  poor;  and 
builds  hospitals  for  the  sick ;  and  gathers  the 
children  of  profligate  and  outcast  parents  into 
places  of  instruction ;  and  erects  barriers  strong 
and  high  against  the  progress  of  evil.  Virtue 
softens  whatever  is  rugged  in  the  human  character ; 
secures  to  civil  government  the  ends  which  it  con- 
templates as  a  benevolent  ministry :  and  diffuses 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HONOUR.  245 

an  inexpressible  charm  over  the  face  of  society. 
And  who  is  not  interested  in  the  social  improve- 
ment and  elevation  of  the  community  in  which 
he  lives?  If  you  can  tell  me  who,  I  will  tell 
you  who  they  are  with  whom  a  virtuous  life  will 
not  be  accounted  a  recommendation. 

But  there  is  a  yet  more  particular  influence 
which  virtue  exerts  to  secure  the  good  will  of 
mankind  —  I  mean  the  influence  of  particular 
acts  of  beneficence  in  awakening  the  gratitude 
of  those  who  are  the  objects  of  them.  We  vene- 
rate the  man  who  stands  forth  a  great  publick 
benefactor,  even  though  we  may  have  no  other 
interest  in  his  benefaction  than  has  every  member 
of  the  community  to  which  we  belong.  But  let 
the  favour  that  is  bestowed  assume  a  personal 
character  toward  ourselves  —  and  the  individual 
who  bestows  it  becomes  more  directly  an  object 
of  our  gratitude.  A  large  portion  of  the  deeds 
of  a  virtuous  man  are  deeds  of  benevolence, 
designed  to  elevate  the  character  or  meliorate 
the  condition  of  individuals  v/ithin  the  circle  of 
his  influence.  And  do  you  not  think  that  each 
of  these,  if  he  have  the  common  feelings  of  a 
man,   will    find    those    feelings   quickened    into 


246  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HONOUR. 

grateful  exercise,  on  being  the  recipient  of  the 
good  man's  favours?  Will  not  the  poor  family 
to  whom  he  sends  a  portion  from  his  own  table, 
bless  him  for  having  remembered  them  ?  Will 
not  the  child  whom  his  charity  rescues  from  the 
degradation  of  the  parental  home,  or  perhaps 
from  an  incipient  career  of  vagrancy  and  crime, 
and  elevates  first  to  decency  and  comfort,  and 
afterwards  to  respectability  and  usefulness  —  will 
not  that  child,  I  ask,  to  his  dying  hour,  have 
feelings  of  thankfulness  toward  his  benefactor 
which  the  tongue  cannot  utter?  And  will  not 
every  one  who  associates  with  such  a  person,  — 
whether  superior,  inferior,  or  equal, — receive 
from  him,  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life, 
some  expressions  of  kindness,  which  will  find  a 
permanent  lodgment  not  only  in  the  memory,  but 
in  the  heart?  It  is  delightful  to  a  virtuous 
man  to  reflect  that  his  general  character  com- 
mands the  good  will  and  esteem  of  his  fellow 
men ;  but  methinks  he  finds  a  source  of  still 
higher  happiness,  in  the  grateful  acknowledgments 
that  pour  upon  him  from  those,  to  whom  he  has 
been  a  personal  benefactor. 

It  particularly  deserves  your  consideration  that 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HONOUR.  247 

bad  men  as  well  as  good,  render  their  homage  to 
virtue  ;  —  sometimes  when  they  are,  and  sometimes 
when  they  are  not,  conscious  of  doing  so.  Why 
is  it  that  the  profane  man,  wlio,  in  ordinary 
circumstances,  incorporates  an  oath  with  every 
sentence,  and  who,  when  reproved  for  doing  so, 
pleads  that  habit  has  rendered  him  unconscious 
of  it — why  is  it  that,  in  the  presence  of  a  man 
of  acknowledged  and  exalted  virtue,  he  can  talk 
without  making  his  usual  display  of  the  rhetoric 
of  curses?  It  is  because  the  majesty  of  virtue 
overawes  him ;  and  he  is  constrained  to  appear 
reverent  in  her  presence.  Why  is  it  that  the 
wretch  who  has  the  hardihood  to  traduce  and 
revile  the  godly,  is  sure  to  represent  the  good 
which  he  would  vilify  under  the  aspect  of  evil — 
to  call  conscientiousness,  pusillanimity ;  and 
devotion,  hypocrisy ;  and  charity,  ostentation ; 
and  zeal,  fanaticism?  It  is  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  he  knows  that  the  virtues  which  he 
aflfects  to  contemn,  are  noble  and  praiseworthy ; 
and  that,  unless  he  can  pass  them  off  as  vices,  he 
cannot  hope  that  his  ridicule  will  catch  the  ear 
even  of  the  vicious  themselves.  And  I  may  add, 
why  is  it  that  men  of  depraved  characters  do  not 


248  VIRTUE    CROWNED    AVITH    HONODR. 

select  their  own  associates  in  wickedness  to 
discharge  for  them  important  and  responsible 
trusts,  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  they  are  just  as 
careful  to  inquire  into  the  moral  character  of  the 
individuals  to  whom  they  wish  to  confide  their 
concerns,  as  any  other  persons  in  the  community? 
Especially  how  comes  it  to  pass,  as  it  often  has 
done,  that  infidels  who  have  professedly  gloried 
in  their  rejection  of  Christianity,  have  committed 
their  children  to  the  care  and  instruction  of  men 
of  exemplary  piety?  And  to  refer  to  a  particular 
case,  how  happened  it  that  one  of  the  most  scof- 
fing infidels  whom  this  country  has  ever  known, 
when  asked  by  his  daughter  on  her  death-bed, 
whether  he  would  have  her,  in  that  trying  hour, 
believe  as  he  had  taught  her,  or  as  she  had  been 
taught  by  her  pious  mother  —  how  happened  it,, 
I  ask,  that  the  infidel  father  melted  into  tears, 
and  exclaimed  with  a  faltering  voice,  "  Believe 
as  your  mother  has  taught  you !"  There  is  but 
one  answer  to  these  questions — it  is,  in  every 
case,  the  involuntary  homage  which  the  soul  even 
of  a  bad  man  renders  to  true  virtue.  These  cases 
show  that  there  is  not  a  little  hypocrisy  even  in 
the  most  blustering  infidelity ;  and  that  the  worst 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HONOUR.  249 

of  men,  in  trying  times,  are  glad  to  come  under 
the  protection,  even  though  they  may  not  enlist 
under  the  banner,  of  Christianity. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  honour,  when 
considered  as  indicating  the  distinction  that 
belongs  to  rank  or  office,  is,  by  no  means 
uniformly,  or  even  very  frequently,  the  reward 
of  a  virtuous  course ;  nor  is  mere  virtue,  apart 
from  intelligence,  entitled  to  such  distinction. 
An  individual  may  be  a  pattern  of  all  that  is 
amiable  and  praiseworthy  in  his  social  relations, 
and  may  even  be  distinguished  for  his  exhibition 
of  the  Christian  graces,  and  yet,  for  want  of 
sufficient  vigour  of  mind,  or  of  the  due  cultivation 
of  his  powers,  he  may  be  utterly  unfit  to  wield 
the  influences  which  belong  to  an  exalted  station. 
But,  even  admitting  that  virtue  is  associated  with 
intelligence,  and  with  all  the  other  requisite 
qualifications  for  being  clothed  with  civil  author- 
ity, it  will  depend,  after  all,  especially  under 
such  a  government  as  ours,  on  the  moral  state  of 
the  communitj'-,  whether  it  shall  find  the  exaltation 
which  it  deserves.  It  is  a  lamentable  fact,  which 
our  experience  as  a  nation  forbids  us  to  doubt, 
that  party  spirit  may  invest  weakness  and  corrup- 


250  .  VIRTUE    CROWKED    WITH    HONOUR. 

tion  with  high  authority,  and  leave  the  most 
exahed  virtue,  even  when  associated  with  the 
most  exahed  intelligence,  to  the  obscurity  of  a 
private  station.  But  let  virtue  in  a  community 
become  triumphant,  —  let  the  publick  conscience 
be  suitably  enlightened,  and  the  publick  morals 
duly  elevated, —  and  the  wise  and  good  will  no 
longer  be  suffered  to  remain  in  obscurity :  even 
though  tFieir  modesty  should  court  retirement,  the 
suffrages  of  their  fellow  citizens  will  bring  them 
forth,  and  elevate  them  to  places  of  trust  and 
influence.  Nay,  it  will  sometimes  happen  that 
men  of  this  character  will  be  exalted  to  high 
places,  in  a  community  that  is  deeply  corrupt ; 
for,  as  one  bad  man  is  not  usually  disposed  to 
confide  his  most  important  personal  interests  to 
another  bad  man,  so  a  community  which  vice  has 
essentially  corrupted,  may,  from  purely  selfish 
considerations,  prefer  to  trust  its  interests  with 
men  of  integrity  and  wisdom.  This  principle 
will  be  found  to  operate  especially  in  respect  to 
subordinate  offices,  which  it  is  left  to  the  discre- 
tion of  the  superior  in  authority  to  fill ;  for,  while 
there  is  here  less  room  for  party  spirit  to  operate, 
the   things   chiefly  regarded   are  the  ability  and 


VIRTUE    CROAVNED    WITH   HONOUR.  251 

fidelity  with  which  the  duties  of  the  office   will 
probably  be  discharged. 

The  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  is,  that,  in 
a  virtuous  community,  good  men,  other  things 
being  equal,  are  the  fairest  candidates  for  the  high 
places  of  trust;  —  indee'd,  they  are  the  only  class 
who  can  aspire  to  such  places  with  any  hope  of 
success:  and,  even  in  the  most  equivocal  state  of 
society,  they  will  not  unfrequentiy  be  elevated 
through  the  influence  of  mere  publick  selfishness. 
And  as  for  bad  men, — though  they  may  occupy 
posts  of  honour,  and  may  live  amidst  the  splen- 
dours of  rank  and  the  incense  of  flattery,  yet 
they  can  never  personally  become  the  objects  of 
general  esteem  and  regard.  Be  examples  of  true 
virtue,  and  you  need  have  no  fear  but  that  the  world 
will  find  it  out,  and  will  honour  you  for  ever}'' 
noble  quality  with  which  your  character  is  adorned. 
If  you  rise  to  an  exalted  station,  it  is  well  —  you 
will  be  prepared  to  fill  it  with  dignity  and  advan- 
tage :  but  if  you  spend  your  days  in  retirement, 
it  is  well  also;  for  there  loo  virtue  will  weave  for 
you  a  chaplet  in  the  grateful  regards  and  benedic- 
tions of  your  fellow  creatures. 


252        VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   USEFULNESS, 


LETTER  XX. 

VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    USEFULNESS. 

What  a  noble  example  of  usefulness  was  Jo- 
seph in  every  relation  which  he  sustained — in 
every  condition  in  which  he  was  placed !  Of 
what  he  was  to  the  Midianitish  merchants,  previ- 
ous to  his  being  sold  to  Potiphar,  we  have  no 
account;  but,  from  that  period  to  the  close  of  his 
life,  the  monuments  of  his  benevolent  activity  are 
continually  rising  before  us.  It  was  the  disposi- 
tion which  he  manifested  to  render  himself  useful, 
that  caused  him  to  be  advanced  in  the  house  of 
Potiphar ;  and  there  he  was  most  heartily  and  zeal- 
ously devoted  to  his  master's  interests.  During  his 
confinement  in  prison, — though  he  was  conscious 
that  it  was  a  most  unjust  and  cruel  confinement, — 
yet  he  was  constantly  occupied  in  some  useful 
way ;  and  very  soon  was  entrusted  with  the 
general  oversight  of  all  his  fellow  prisoners. 
And  then   when  he   became  governour  of   the 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   USEFULNESS.        tiod 

land  —  who  can  calculate  the  amount  of  good 
that  he  accomplished  ?  The  single  precaution 
that  he  took  for  saving  the  land  of  Egypt  from 
the  threatening  famine,  was  the  means  of  averting 
an  amount  of  distress  which  it  is  not  easy  to 
calculate ;  and  not  merely  from  the  people  ol 
Egypt,  but,  as  it  turned  out,  from  his  own  imme- 
diate family.  All  the  publick  concerns  of  the 
country  he  seems  to  have  managed  with  the 
utmost  skill  and  success ;  and  no  doubt  the 
period  of  his  administration  was  unprecedented 
in  respect  to  both  publick  and  private  happiness. 
But  doubtless  we  must  reckon  his  greatest  useful- 
ness as  connected  with  the  immediate  fortunes  of 
his  own  house,  and  the  remoter  and  higher  interests 
of  the  church  of  God.  We  need  not — perhaps 
we  cannot — suppose  that  he  was  fully  aware  of 
the  relation  which  he  maintained  to  the  church  in 
all  future  ages ;  of  the  vital  importance  of  the 
agency  which  he  was  carrying  forward,  to  the 
accomplishment  of  the  grandest  promise  of  Jeho- 
vah. It  was  enough  for  him  that  he  was  always 
faithfully  and  earnestly  engaged  in  doing  his 
duty.  But  to  us  it  appears  manifest  that  what  he 
did,  constituted  an  important  link  in  the  chain  of 


254         VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    USEFULNESS. 

causes  and  effects,  by  which  the  triumph  of  God's 
mercy  in  the  scheme  of  redemption  is  finally  to 
be  accomplished. 

What  was  true  of  Joseph  is  true  of  every  other 
good  man  —  his  life  is  crowned  with  usefulness. 
Here  again,  for  the  truth  of  this  remark,  I  refel 
you  to  your  own  observation.  I  will  only  ask 
your  attention  to  a  few  thoughts  illustrative  of  the 
manner  in» which  virtue  operates  to  secure  this 
end. 

Let  me  say  then,  in  the  first  place,  virtue 
renders  its  possessor  useful,  bj-  securing  to  his 
faculties  their  right  direction  and  their  legitimate 
exercise.  The  good  man  recognizes  his  obligation 
not  only  to  exert  the  powers  which  God  has 
given  him,  but  to  exert  them  for  purposes  of 
good ;  and  if  he  is  tempted  to  pervert  them  to 
mere  selfish  gratification,  even  though  no  positive 
evil  to  his  fellow  men  may  be  involved,  he  will 
find  himself  subjected  to  self-reproach  from  having 
neglected  duly  to  consider  his  Creator's  claims. 
And  not  only  is  his  judgment  on  this  subject 
suitably  enlightened  and  convinced,  but  his  heart 
goes  along  with  his  judgment  ;  and  while  he 
approves  the  right  he  also  loves  it.     He  engages 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    USEFULUESS.         255 

in  doing  good,  therefore,  in  obedience  not  only  to 
a  command  of  God  most  clearly  revealed,  but 
also,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  expression,  to  one 
of  the  instincts  of  his  renovated  nature.  And  the 
same  authority  which  enjoins  this  —  the  same 
temper  that  disposes  to  it,  may  be  expected  to 
secure  the  full  amount  of  benevolent  activity  of 
which  he  is  capable.  Let  a  man  know  what  God 
requires  of  him,  and  have  the  disposition  to  fulfil 
the  requisition,  and  it  is  impossible  to  conceive 
that  such  a  man  should  live  either  to  do  wrong 
or  to  do  nothing.  As  this  knowledge  and  this 
disposition  are  both  included  in  true  virtue,  it  is 
manifest  that  virtue  is  essentially  the  parent  of 
usefulness. 

But  while  virtue  keeps  the  faculties  appropri- 
ately employed,  she  makes  the  most  of  all  those 
opportunities  for  doing  good  which  grow  out  of 
the  various  relations  and  conditions  in  life.  Place 
her  where  you  will,  and  she  finds  means  of  use- 
fulness, which  she  diligently  and  scrupulously 
improves.  In  the  various  occupations  and  profes- 
sions in  which  the  mass  of  men  look  for  nothing 
beyond  their  own  aggrandizement,  the  truly  good 
man  finds  channels  innumerable  through   which 


256         VIRTUE    CKOAVNED    WITH    USEFULNESS. 

to  send  forth  a  healthful  and  quickening  influ- 
ence  on  the  neighbourhood,  the  community,  the 
world. 

Virtue  renders  any  station  that  is  not  in  itself 
dishonourable,  subservient  to  the  publick  good. 
Take,  for  instance,  the  military  man  —  though 
his  profession  is  so  intimately  associated  with 
peril  and  death,  and  is  often  exercised  in  the  face 
of  honour  and  justice,  yet  who  can  doubt  that  it 
may  be — ought  to  be — rendered  tributary  to 
the  great  interests  of  the  human  family?  Napo- 
leon indeed  exercised  it  in  obedience  to  the 
dictates  of  a  burning  ambition  —  in  his  hands  it 
was  a  frightful  engine  of  wrath  and  wo — he  was 
a  man  of  one  idea ;  and  that  idea  was  the  com- 
plete subjugation  of  the  nations  to  his  usurped 
authority.  And  though  God  may  have  over- 
ruled for  good  what  he  did,  yet  his  mad  and 
terrific  movements  were  all  directed  by  the  spirit 
of  evil.  But  how  was  it  with  our  own  Washing- 
ton? With  him  the  military  profession,  being 
under  the  direction  of  virtue,  became  the  instru- 
ment of  national  happiness  and  glory; — nay,  it 
was  a  ministration  of  good  to  the  whole  human 
family,  through   all   succeeding   generations;    for 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   USEFULNESS.        257 

while  it  was  the  means  of  securing  our  nation's 
independence,  it  has  spread,  or  is  destined  to 
spread,  the  savour  of  true  liberty  all  over  the 
world.  No  doubt  Washington  had,  from  the 
beginning,  the  most  enlarged  views  of  the  enter- 
prize,  and  beheld  in  its  success  the  triumph  of  a 
principle  which  is  destined  to  work  a  mighty- 
change  in  the  whole  structure  of  human  society  ; 
but  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  even  his  far 
reaching  eye  overtook  all  the  mighty  results 
which  less  than  half  a  century  has  developed. 
If,  with  his  great  military  prowess,  he  had  had 
Arnold's  heart,  or  even  the  heart  of  many  a  man 
that  is  not  disgraced  before  the  world,  where 
would  have  been  this  tree  of  liberty  under  whose 
shadow  we  repose,  and  the  leaves  of  which  are 
already  beginning  to  operate  for  the  healing  of 
the  nations?  It  may  be  that  no  other  opportu- 
nity may  occur  to  the  end  of  time  for  rendering 
the  military  profession  subservient  to  so  important 
a  purpose  as  was  accomplished  by  Washington  ; 
but  there  is  not  a  soldier  so  insignificant,  even 
during  the  prevalence  of  the  most  undisturbed 
peace,  but  that  he  may  use  his  profession  to 
purposes  of  good  —  if  in  no  other  way,  at  least 

14* 


258         VIRTUE    CROWTMED   WITH    USEFULNESS. 

in   endeavouring   to  elevate  the  character  of  his 
military  associates. 

Next,  look  at  the  man  who  occupies  an 
important  civil  station,  and  see  how  much  good 
may  be  accomplished  by  his  well  directed  influ- 
ence. Our  own  history  furnishes  a  galaxy  of 
illustrious  statesmen,  any  one  of  whom  might  be 
selected  to  illustrate  the  high  usefulness  which 
legitimately  belongs  to  such  a  sphere.  The 
virtuous  statesman  has  his  hand  directly  on  the 
springs  of  the  public  weal.  His  voice  is  heard 
and  heeded,  where  a  thousand  other  voices  might 
speak  in  vain.  Perplexing  questions  are  un- 
ravelled by  his  wisdom,  and  base  projects  are 
exposed  and  defeated  by  his  integrity.  And 
beside  his  publick  influence,  his  official  dignity 
gives  additional  consideration  to  his  private  acts 
—  the  legislator  or  the  judge  is  so  identified  with 
the  man,  that  the  respect  which  attaches  to  the 
one,  extends  also  to  the  other.  An  action  per- 
formed by  an  obscure  individual  might  awaken 
little  attention  and  produce  little  effect ;  when  the 
same  action  performed  by  a  man  of  exalted  rank 
might  exert  an  influence  that  would  be  felt 
through  all  the  pores  of  society. 


VIRTUE  CROWNED  WITH  USEFULNESS.        259 

The  legal  profession  too  opens  a  wide  field 
of  usefulness  to  the  man  of  right  views  and 
dispositions.  There  is  scarcely  any  thing  in  the 
organization  of  society,  more  intimately  connected 
with  its  well  being,  than  the  legitimate  operation 
of  the  law.  In  this  world  of  injustice  and 
injury,  there  should  be  some  means  of  redress 
which  may  be  relied  on  —  some  system  of  pro- 
cedure by  which  the  weak  may  sustain  themselves 
against  the  strong  —  the  oppressed  against  the 
arrogant.  This  is  just  the  relief  which  the  law 
contemplates,  and  which,  if  rightly  administered, 
it  eflectually  secures.  It  is  true  indeed  that  there 
is  no  profession  more  capable  than  this  of  being 
perverted  to  purposes  of  evil;  and,  in  tiie  hands 
of  multitudes,  it  is  nothing  better  tlian  the  minis- 
ter of  strife,  not  to  say,  the  instrument  of 
oppression:  but,  let  an  individual  engage  in  it 
conscientiously,  and  with  a  sincere  desire  to 
witness  the  triumph  of  truth  and  justice  rather 
tlian  the  triumph  of  his  skill,  —  and  his  influence 
will  diffuse  itself  most  gratefully  over  tlio  Avhole 
community;  he  will  be  regarded,  and  justly,  as 
the  friend  of  the  injured;  and,  after  he  is  dead, 
his  name  will  not  be  forgotten,  but  multitudes  will 


2G0        VIRTUE    CROWNED    "WITH    USEFULNESS. 

rise  up  to  bear  witness  to  his  good  deeds  and  hon- 
our him  as  a  conscientious  lawyer. 

The  merchant  also  —  especially  the  opulent 
merchant  —  can  you  measure  the  amount  of  good 
which  he  has  it  in  his  power  to  accomplish  ?  By 
his  fair  and  honourable  dealing,  he  may  do  much 
to  elevate  the  general  character  of  commercial 
intercourse ;  by  being  a  pattern  of  honesty  and 
punctuality  and  general  exactness  in  trade,  he 
may  do  much  lo  extend  the  same  spirit  and 
rebuke  the  opposite  among  his  fellow  merchants ; 
and  thus  society  at  large  may  reap  the  benefit  of 
his  example.  But  I  chiefly  refer  here  to  the 
good  uses  which  he  may  make  of  his  wealth,  in 
advancing  the  best  interests  of  his  fellow  men. 
He  may  not  only  carry  portions  to  the  needy  in 
liis  own  neighbourhood,  and  thus  cause  the  heart 
of  many  a  widow  to  sing  for  joy,  but  he  may 
make  permanent  provision  for  the  relief  of  wretch- 
edness in  various  forms,  which  shall  bring  to  him 
the  blessing  of  multitudes  who  are  ready  lo 
perish.  If  you  inquire  by  whom  our  alms-houses 
and  hospitals  and  lunatick  asylums  are  chiefly 
endowed  ;  by  whom  the  noble  institutions  for  the 
promotion   of  learning  scattered  here  and  there 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   USEFULNESS.         261 

over  the  land,  have  been  founded  ;  by  whom  the 
largest  contributions  for  the  extension  of  the 
gospel  in  heathen  lands  have  been  made  ;  I  greatly 
mistake  if  you  do  not  find  that  the  brightest  names 
on  these  lists  of  the  world's  benefactors  are  mer- 
chants —  that  no  small  part  of  the  money  that  has 
been  thus  bestowed  for  the  good  of  mankind,  has 
been  earned  by  diligently,  if  you  please  doggedly, 
buying  and  selling  goods. 

1  might,  in  the  same  way,  go  through  with  all 
the  other  professions  and  occupations  in  which 
men  engage,  which  are  in  accordance  with  integ- 
rity and  honour,  and  show  you  how  each  of  them 
may  be — under  the  direction  of  virtue,  actually 
is  —  subservient  to  useful  purposes.  But  I  will 
only  add  that  there  is  no  condition  so  obscure  — 
none  even  so  wretched — but  that  it  will  open  a 
field  of  usefulness  to  a  good  man.  Suppose  that 
he  is  so  obscure  that,  though  he  is  in  your  imme- 
diate neighbourhood,  you  never  hear  of  him  — 
yet  there  are  those  who  do  know  him,  and  to 
whom  he  has  access  in  daily  intercourse.  These 
he  can  influence  by  his  example,  his  conversation, 
perhaps  by  his  prayers  ;  and  it  is  by  no  means 
improbable  that  some  will  dwell  in  heaven  forever, 


2G2        VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   rSEFULNSES. 

because  they  have  dwelt  on  earth  within  the  circle 
of  his  influence.  Or  suppose  that  he  is  left  to 
linger  out  years  upon  a  sick  bed,  and  is  thereby 
cut  off  from  all  intercourse,  except  with  those 
who  come  to  sympathize  in  his  affliction,  or 
minister  to  his  wants — even  there  he  may  be  an 
eminently  useful  man.  By  his  faith  in  God,  his 
cheerful  submission,  his  elevated  devotion,  he  may 
leave  an  indelible  impression  for  good  on  those 
who  are  about  his  bedside  :  and  the  story  of  what 
passes  there  may  penetrate  some  other  hearts  to 
which  it  may  be  communicated  ;  and  the  prayers 
which  he  offers  up  may  be  the  medium  through 
which  the  richest  blessings  shall  be  conveyed  to 
multitudes  whom  he  has  never  seen.  I  repeat,  it 
is  the  privilege  of  the  good  man  to  be  useful 
always  —  he  may  be  sick  and  poor,  he  may  be 
unknown  and  forgotten,  he  may  even  be  impris- 
oned and  manacled,  and  yet,  so  long  as  he  has 
lips  that  can  move  in  prayer,  or  a  heart  that  can 
beat  to  the  spiritual  miseries  of  the  world,  you 
may  not  say  that  he  is  a  cumberer  of  the  ground. 

What  a  delightful  employment  to  reflect  on  a 
useful  life,  when  life  is  drawing  to  a  close  !  How 
transported  must  have  been  the  apostle,  when  he 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HEAVEN.  263 

could  say,  "  I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have 
nnished  my  coarse,  I  have  kept  the  faith  !"  You, 
my  young  friends,  will  soon  be  in  his  circum- 
stances, in  respect  to  the  opening  of  another  world 
upon  your  spirits.  Murmur  not,  though  God  place 
you  in  the  humblest  circumstances  here  ;  but  be 
thankful  that,  even  in  these  circumstances,  your 
consciences  may  at  least  bear  testimony  to  a  useful 
life.  Let  this  blessed  result  be  accomplished  in 
your  experience,  and  be  your  condition  on  earth 
what  it  may,  you  need  not  envy  the  rich  man  his 
wealth,  nor  the  statesman  his  laurels,  nor  the 
monarch  his  crown. 


LETTER  XXL 

VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HEAVEN. 

You  have  seefi  that  Joseph  was  an  eminently 
religious  man.  His  religious  character  embraced 
not  merely  the  outward  act  but  the  inward  prin- 
ciple.    He  was  one  of  the  pati'iarchs  who  "  died 


264  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HEAVEN. 

in  foith  not  having  received  the  promises,  brt 
having  seen  them  afar  off",  and  were  persuaded  of 
them,  and  embraced  them,  and  confessed  that  they 
were  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  the  earth  ;"  fox 
whom  God  "  hath  prepared  a  city."  His  life  had 
been  one  of  singular  vicissitude — multiplied 
blessings  were  mingled  with  multiplied  trials  ;  — 
but  the  period  at  length  came,  when  that  "  better 
country,  that  is,  an  heavenly,"  which  had  so  long 
been  the  object  of  his  desire,  and  for  which  it  had 
been  the  great  business  of  his  life  to  prepare,  rose 
upon  his  delighted  eye,  perhaps  while  he  was  yet 
among  the  clouds  and  mists  that  hang  about  the 
valley  of  death.  What  a  moment  of  ecstacy  was 
that,  in  which  he  was  permitted  to  feel  that  the 
work  of  his  life  was  fully  accomplished,  that  its 
cares  and  toils  and  calamities  were  all  over,  and 
that  he  was  in  the  act  of  entering  on  that  "  rest" 
which  "  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God !" 
Here  we  reach  the  crowning  part  of  Joseph's 
reward.  He  had  indeed  experienced  man}'  bless- 
ings, in  consequence  of  his  integrity  and  piety, 
while  he  was  on  earth; — the  blessing  of  a  good 
reputation,  of  inward  peace,  of  great  worldly 
prosperity ;  but   here  is  something   that   casts   all 


VIRTUE    CllLWNElJ    WITH   HEAVEN,  265 

previous  blessing-s  into  the  shade  —  knowledge 
without  per;iiexing  doubts  ;  joy  v/ithout  an  alloy 
of  grief;  life  v/ithout  even  the  fear  of  death. 
Who  n-ould  n-.'t  desire  to  be  like  Joseph  in  hi£ 
end?  YvTxG  woux  not  account  all  earthly  .suffer- 
ings light,  if  they  might  be  followed  with  the 
crown  that  fadeth  not  away? 

You,  my  young  friends,  especially  if  you  arc 
living  under  the  power  of  a  pract'cai  Christianity, 
have  already  experienced — are  daily  experiencing 
—  many  rich  blessings,  which  make  a  powerful 
claim  upon  your  gratitude;  but  the  present  com- 
pared with  the  future  is  like  the  faintest  gleam  of 
the  morning  to  the  sun  shining  in  his  strength. 
Heaven — Heaven  is  the  great  object,  upon  which 
you  are  to  fasten  your  regards  and  your  hopes ; 
for  it  is  not  more  certain  that  you  have  the  prin- 
ciple of  true  religion  in  your  hearts,  than  that  the 
glories  of  that  better  world  are  made  sure  to  you. 

You  observe  that  I  speak  of  Heaven  as  the 
ultimate  reward  of  a  good  man  ;  but  to  those  of 
you  who  are  v^ntitled,  in  view  of  ycur  present 
character,  to  expect  this  reward,  I  surely  nee  1 
not  say  that  it  does  not  come  to  you  in  conse- 
quence of  your  own  deservings.     It  is  indeed  a 


266  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH    HEAVEN. 

purchased  possession  ;  but  it  has  been  purchased 
by  the  blood  of  Christ ;  and  it  conies  to  you  as 
a  free  gift.  But  though  purchased  —  though  free, 
it  can  never  become  yours,  independently  of  a 
.compliance  with  the  terms  on  which  it  is  offered: 
it  is  the  completion  of  your  salvation  ;  and  salva- 
tion is  bestowed  only  on  them  who  exercise 
repentance  toward  God  and  faith  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  Moreover,  Heaven  is  not  the  same 
to  all  its  glorified  inhabitants.  Its  felicities  are 
measured  out  according  to  the  character  which 
each  individual  has  had  during  the  period  of  his 
pilgrimage.  As  one  star  difFerelh  from  another 
star  in  glory  in  the  natural  firmament,  so  there 
will  be  a  corresponding  diversity  in  the  firmament 
of  glorified  intelligences.  Notwithstanding  it  is 
by  the  grace  of  God  that  the  feeblest  saint  who  is 
but  scarcely  saved,  has  his  place  in  the  world  of 
glory,  yet  each  one  will  receive  according  to  that 
he  hath  done,  as  if  the  reward  were  adjudged 
according  to  the  actual  degrees  of  meri..  The 
word  of  God  fully  justifies  us  in  reckoning  Heaven 
as  a  reward;  but  it  is  a  reward  not  of  debt,  but 
of  grace.  While  it  niarks  the  measure  of  Chris- 
tian attainment,  it  is  a  testimony  to  the  strength 


VIRTUE    CROWNED   WITH   HEAVEN,  267 

of  divine  love  and  the  efficacy  of  Christ's  me- 
diation. 

But  what  is  Heaven  ?  Who  can  adequately 
answer  this  question  ?  Inspiration,  in  the  attempt 
to  describe  it,  hath  gathered  images  of  beauty  and 
grandeur  from  every  part  of  the  creation ;  and  yet 
perhaps  the  highest  idea  of  Heaven  that  it  has 
conveyed  to  us,  is  in  such  passages  as  these  — 
"  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither 
have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  the  things 
which  God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love 
him."  "  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall 
be:  but  we  know  that  when  he  shall  appear, 
we  shall  be  like  him  ;  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he 
is."  If  even  the  pen  of  inspiration  falters  in  the 
attempt  to  produce  a  sketch  of  the  city  of  our 
God  —  the  new  Jerusalem,  —  how  poor  and  frigid 
must  be  any  thing  that  mortals  can  say,  compared 
with  the  glorious  reality  ! 

As  the  language  of  scripture,  intended  to 
describe  the  glory  of  the  heavenly  state,  is 
necessarily  in  a  great  degree  figurative,  in  order 
that  it  may  be  accommodated  to  our  feeble 
comprehension,  it  were  rash  for  us  to  attempt 
to  decide  ivith  confidence  on  the  meaning  of  at 


268  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HEAVEN. 

least  some  portions  of  it,  except  in  a  rs.ove 
general  manner.  We  may  be  able  to  see  that  it 
indicates  the  most  refined  and  exalted  enjoyment, 
without  knowing  precisely  in  what  that  enjoyment 
consists,  or  from  what  it  more  immediately 
proceeds.  But,  perhaps  the  most  satisfactorj^ 
view  that  we  can  take  of  Fleaven,  is  to  consider 
it  as  including  the  perfection  of  our  own  nature, 
and  the  presence  of  every  thing  that  is  fitted  to 
advance  us  from  glory  to  glory. 

It  is  a  delusion  to  which  most  men  constantly 
yield,  that  happiness  consists  chiefly  in  tlie  ability 
to  command  that  which  is  without;  and  hence 
the  man  who  lives  in  opulence  and  honour,  is 
regarded  by  the  multitude  as  of  course  a  happy 
man.  But  you  may  rest  assured  that,  even  in 
this  life,  happiness  has  chiefly  to  do  with  the 
world  within:  it  is  just  in  proportion  as  the 
faculties  are  kept  in  harmony  vith  each  other 
and  the  will  of  God  —  in  other  words,  as  the 
whole  spiritual  man  is  in  a  sound  and  healthful 
state,  that  there  is  a  foundation  for  trno  happi- 
ness ;  and  it  is  because  man  is  here,  at  best,  so 
very  imperfect  a  being,  that  the  highest  measure 
of  bliss  which  he  enjoys  falls  so  far  short  of  his 


VIRTUE    CE.O'WNED    WITH   HEAVEN.  269 

original  capabilities.  But,  in  reaching  Heaven, 
man  attains  to  the  perfection  of  his  nature. 
His  intellectual  faculties — his  perception,  his 
memory,  his  imagination,  his  judgment,  lose  all 
the  dimness  and  weakness  that  had  pertained  to 
them,  and  are  endued  with  a  vigour  and  energy 
that  make  him  a  wonder  to  himself.  At  the 
saTfie  time,  his  moral  nature  undergoes  a  corres- 
ponding exaltation  :  his  conscience  is  always  a 
minister  of  peace ;  his  affections  and  desires  are 
endued  with  immortal  purity  and  strength.  The 
image  of  his  Redeemer  was  faintly  impressed 
upon  his  soul  in  the  act  of  spiritual  renovation  : 
and  it  became  more  and  more  distinct  as  he 
advanced  in  his  pilgrimage  ;  but  now  it  shines 
forth  in  complete  and  undisputed  perfection. 
Time  was  when  no  one  could  say  whether  he 
would  sink  into  a  fiend  or  rise  into  an  angel  ;  but 
it  has  turned  out  that  he  was  destined  to  be  a 
child  of  the  skies,  and  to  bear  witness  for  his 
Redeemer  forever,  through  his  renovated  nature. 
How  diiferent  i  being  is  man  in  Heaven,  from 
rnan  on  earth !  How  different  is  this  weakness 
from  that  immortal  strencfth  —  this  darkness  from 


270  VIKTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HEAVEN. 

that  surpassing  light  —  this  poverty  of  the  mind 
from  that  ever  enduring,  ever  increasing  riches ! 

We  have  associated  the  body  so  much  wi'.h 
the  soul's  exercises  and  enjoyments  in  this  world, 
that  it  may  require  a  severe  effort,  so  to  break 
away  from  the  delusions  of  sense,  as  to  realize 
that  the  soul  can  be  advanced  to  this  state  of 
perfection,  while  the  body  is  in  the  grave.  But 
of  the  truth  of  this,  God's  holy  word  forbids  ua 
to  doubt.  The  falling  of  the  earthly  tabernacle 
is  the  signal  for  the  immortal  spirit  to  burst  forth 
ui  the  energy  of  a  new  life,  and  to  shine  forth  in 
the  beauty  of  a  new  creation.  The  body  moul- 
ders, and  finally  mingles  with  the  clods  of  the 
valley.  But  it  is  there  for  a  temporary  slumber 
only.  It  is  resting  in  hope  until  the  great 
resurrection  day.  And  then,  as  sure  as  there  is 
'  energy  in  the  archangel's  voice,  it  will  come  forth, 
refashioned  by  the  same  hand  that  made  it  at  first, 
into  a  body  like  unto  Christ's  glorious  body,  that 
will  be  a  fit  habitation  for  the  already  glorified 
spirit.  And  now  that  the  union  between  the 
glorified  soul  and  the  glorified  body  is  efl^ected, 
wo  have  the  perfection  of  the  whole  man  :  the 
same  being  who  lived  on  this  earth,  and  whose 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HEAVEN.  271 

faculties  were  accommodated  to  this  lower  state 
of  existence,  now  lives  in  Heaven,  with  faculties 
fitted  to  subserve  the  great  ends  of  his  existence 
there.  Oh  judge  not  of  man,  from  what  you  see 
him  to  be  on  earth — judge  of  him  rather  by  what 
he  is  hereafter  to  be  in  Heaven. 

But  we  have  not  yet  reached  the  full  idea  of  Hea- 
ven ;  for  while  it  includes  the  exaltation  and  per- 
fection of  man's  nature,  it  includes  also  everything 
that  is  necessary  to  meet  the  soul's  desires,  and  to 
carry  it  forward  through  an  endlessly  progressiva 
course  of  intelligence,  purity  and  bliss.     Notwith- 
standing  the  seat  of  enjoyment  is  in  the  soul,  we 
know  that   even   here,  we   are  indebted  for  our 
happiness,  in  no  small  degree,  to  objects  that  are 
without  us :  as  we  contemplate  the  wonders  of 
nature  and   providence,  we   find  our  knowledge 
constantly  extending,  and  our  admiration  of  the 
works    and   ways   of   God    increasing.     As   we 
mingle  in  our  social  relations,  and  discharge  the 
various   obligations   of   justice   and    charit}^,    and 
indulge  in  an  intercommunication  of  thought  and 
feeling   in  respect   to   the   objects  in  which   we 
are   interested,   our    intellects    expand,   and    our 
hearts   warm^    and   our   happiness   is   proportion- 


272  VIRTUE    CKOWNED    WITH    HUAVEN. 

ally  increased.  And  the  same  general  economy 
will  prevail  in  Heaven.  The  glorified  mind 
will  be  surrounded  with  glorious  objects  of 
contemplation :  new  forms  of  intellectual  and 
moral  beauty,  will  rise  up  on  every  side  to  occupy 
and  enrapture  ;  new  discoveries  will  be  made  con- 
tinually of  the  character,  the  government,  the 
works,  of  God  ;  especially  will  the  glory  of  the 
plan  of  redemption  unfold  with  an  ever  increas- 
ing lustre ;  and  each  step  in  the  progress  of 
discovery  will  mark  a  progressive  enlargement  of 
the  soul's  capacities,  and  will  be  a  preparation  for 
flights  yet  more  lofty,  for  researches  yet  moro 
profound,  into  the  heights  and  depths  of  the  divine 
perfections.  And  then  what  a  communion  will 
that  be  which  the  saint  in  Heaven  shall  enjoy  with 
the  various  orders  of  existence  with  which  Heaven 
is  peopled  !  How  delightful  must  be  the  inter- 
course of  glorified  minds  with  each  other  ;  how 
vigorous  will  be  the  operation  of  the  social 
principle ;  how  free  from  every  thing  that  cm- 
bitters  their  communion  here  ;  how  full  of  every 
thing  that  can  render  it  profitable  and  joyous! 
The  angels  —  the  native  inhabitants  of  Heaven  — 
they  too  are  the  saint's  companions ;  and  though 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HEAVEN.  273 

they  belong  to  a  higher  order  of  existence  than 
he,  vet  they  consider  it  a  privilege  to  be  associated 
with  him  in  searching  into  the  mysteries  of  his 
redemption,  and  even  in  celebrating  that  event  in 
ihc  immortal  song.  Jesus  the  mediator  of  the 
nrw  covenant — the  brightness  of  the  Father's 
glory  and  the  express  image  of  his  person  —  the 
man  of  sorrows  exalted  into  a  union  with  perfect 
Deity — He  too  will  be  there;  and  the  saints 
will  have  free  access  to  him,  and  intimate  commun- 
ion with  him  ;  and  while  he  will  receive  their 
unceasing  homage,  he  will  crown  them  in  return 
with  his  perpetual  benedictions.  But  why  should 
I  attempt  to  penetrate  the  upper  sanctuary  ?  I 
would  be  contented  for  the  present  to  see  through 
a  glass  darkly,  in  the  hope  that  this  darkness  will' 
ere  long  pass  away,  and  that  my  spirit  will  be 
entrantoJ  in  the  glory  that  is  to  follow. 

I  cannot  conclude  this  letter,  and  especially  this 
series  of  letters,  without  admonishing  you  to  be 
ware  that  you  do  not  expect  this  glorious  reward 
on  any  other  terms  than  those  which  Christianity 
prescribes.  .  There  is  indeed  a  spurious  virtue  — 
a  virtue  which  expends  itself  upon  the  outer  man, 
chiefly  in   adju.-Bting    and    adorning    the    various. 


274  VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HEAVEN. 

social  relations ;  and  it  has  its  reward  in  a  thou- 
sand ways,  —  all  of  which,  however,  have  respect 
to  the  life  that  now  is.  You  must  look  beyond 
the  grace  and  the  loveliness  of  nature,  if  you  will 
travel  in  the  path  that  terminates  in  Heaven.  You 
must  possess  that  virtue  which  is  originated  and 
nourished  by  an  influence  from  the  Redeem'^r's 
cross.  You  must  realize  tliat,  as  a  sinner,  you 
owe  to  God's  justice  a  debt  that  you  can  never 
cancel;  and  that  that  debt  will  remain  against 
you  forever,  unless  you  take  advantage  of  that 
Heaven-devised  provision  which  the  gospel  re- 
veals for  securing  to  you  a  free  forgiveness.  Tn 
the  exercise  of  sincere  penitence  for  sin,  you  must 
welcome  Christ  as  your  Saviour,  and  desire  and 
expect  salvation  only  through  the  merit  of  his 
blood.  In  humble  reliance  on  the  Holy  Spirit, 
you  must  devote  yourself  to  the  service  of  God^ 
and  aim  continually  at  higher  degrees  of  confor- 
mity to  his  will.  This  do.  and  you  may,  with 
perfect  confidence,  anticipate  Heaven  as  your  final 
home. 

My  young  friends,  I  here  close  the  hints  of 
Rdmonition  and  counsel  which  I  designed  to 
ftjxdress  to  you.     I  am  willing  to  hope  that  it  has 


VIRTUE    CROWNED    WITH   HEAVEN.  275 

not  been  in  vain  that  I  have  thus  held  up  before 
you  the  amiable  and  exemplary  Joseph.  If  I 
mistake  not,  the  history  has  furnished  a  happy 
illustration  of  true  religion,  both  as  it  exists  in 
the  heart,  and  as  it  is  acted  out  in  the  life. 
Thankful  indeed  shall  I  be,  if  the  perusal  of  what 
I  have  written  shall  render  you  more  wise,  or 
useful,  or  happy,  in  the  present  life;  but  I  own 
that  my  purpose  will  not  be  answered,  if  it  s^iall 
not  also  exert  an  influence  in  reference  to  the 
higher  interests  of  the  life  to  come.  I  will  only 
say,  let  your  religion,  as  was  that  of  Joseph,  be 
the  religion  of  principle,  the  religion  of  feeling, 
the  religion  of  action — then  will  it  accomplish 
in  respect  to  you  a  perfect  work,  and  make  you 
all  that  you  can  reasonably  desire  to  be  in  both 
worlds.  Happy,  thrice  happy  are  ye,  that  your 
lot  has  been  case  amidst  the  influences  of  our 
divine  Christianity.  Welcome,  welcome  this 
good  angel  co  your  heart,  and  she  will  guard 
you  amidst  all  life's  dangers,  guide  you  amidst 
all  life's  perplexities,  sustain  you  under  all  life's 
burdens,  and  finally  accompany  you  in  your 
upward  flight,  and  remain  the  everlasting  inmate 
of  your  bosom  in  brighter  worlds. 


BJ1671  .S76 

Joseph,  or,  The  model  young  man. 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary-Speer  Library 


